Our Sweet Rapture
by Chiyume
Summary: After a hunt gone wrong leaves Sam transfigured and Castiel drained of his grace, Dean is not only left to tend to them both, but for some reason also finds himself having both involuntarily and graphically inappropriate thoughts about the angel in question. Now if only Cas could stop getting so close to him all the time, maybe he could figure out what was going on?
1. Chapter 1

It was quiet.

The dark outline of the abandoned building was towering above them, casting its long, dark shadow over the yard. Silhouettes of feral bushes and deserted flowerbeds danced before their eyes when the cone of Dean's flashlight swept over the house, tracing along boarded shut windows as they vigilantly advanced towards the porch.

"You sure this is the right place?" Sam gazed up towards the sealed windows on the second floor. In response to his question Dean simply pointed his torch onto the door where the light fell upon a single, bloodied handprint that smeared across both the handle and door frame.

"Positive." He grunted.

With a simultaneous glance at each other they both reached for the blades they were carrying in slings from their belts. Their guns were useless, the drying blood by Dean's hairline and the cut on Sam's upper arm bearing silent witness to that.

Slowly they crept up the stairs, noticing more red stains covering the floor boards. Dean frowned.

"That's a lot of blood… I thought you said that last cut missed?"

"It did." Sam objected. "I mean… it felt like it did."

"Well, at least we know the bitch is capable of bleeding now."

He reached out to push the front door open, but Sam grabbed his arm and stopped him before he could reach it.

"Hey. Shouldn't we wait?" he threw a glance over his shoulder. "Cas said he'd be back as soon as he could."

"And risk loosing her? No way." Sam ignored the way his brother snapped at him. As the voice of reason, it was his job not to let Dean's impatience get the better of him in situations like this.

"We tracked her down once, Dean." Large, reassuring eyes met with stoic, green ones. "We can do it again."

Dean resolutely shook Sam's large hand off, raising his blade and pointing its tip at the door.

"No. We're taking care of this now."

Sam looked as if he was about to say something else, but meeting the look from Dean's eyes he simply sighed and took a step back, accepting the fact that reason would have to fold this time. Dean nodded, swallowing hard.

"Alright then…"

The creak of the door was almost inaudible when they opened it, but the sound echoed from the bare surfaces of the empty house and came bouncing back towards them, making them cringe from the sudden noise.

It was pitch black inside, the light of the moon barely making its way through the few cracks and openings of the boarded windows. As their eyes adjusted to the dusk their flashlights found more blood leading towards and up the staircase, both rail and wall soiled with crimson stains.

The stairs only creaked a bit louder than the door had, however it must have been more than loud enough to alert anyone residing up there that they were no longer alone in the house. Once up the ledge they found that the room branched out into two corridors, one leading in the opposite direction of the other. There were no traces of blood in either of them.

Sam looked at Dean and Dean nodded back in silent agreement and they split up, Dean heading east and Sam slowly creeping down the west hallway, their footsteps muffled by the stained old carpet on the floor.

Why was it so quiet anyway? Dean didn't like it one bit, and he couldn't shake the feeling that something was horribly, horribly wrong here. As if the roles of hunter and hunted had switched the second they pushed that front door open. He felt observed, the tiny hairs on the back of his neck standing up in wild attention as he moved forwards and damn it, he almost regretted that they hadn't waited for Cas to come back before moving in.

The first door to his right led into what must have been a nursery once judging by the colorful art on the wallpaper. He could se ponies and flowers somewhere underneath the more obscene graffiti that had been sprayed on top of it over the years, so he would guess it had been a little girl's room once.

The door to the closet was open wide, no uglies in there and after a quick look around he could conclude that there were no traces of the enemy ever entering this room.

"Dean."

The older Winchester should be used to it by now, he knew that, but nonetheless he whirled around, blade cutting through the air only to come to an absolute halt when a hand closed around his lower arm in an iron grip.

Blue eyes looked at him calmly through the darkness, seemingly without any surprise of the violent greeting.

"Damn it, Cas!" Dean hissed, not sure whether he should be relieved by the sight of the angel or pissed over how jumpy he was. "We're on a damn hunt here; you can't sneak up on me like that!"

The angel released his arm, but didn't pay much attention to the scolding. Instead his face that had looked so calm moments ago turned scowling, a worried expression that deepened as he looked around the room.

"Where's Sam?" he demanded, making Dean frown.

"Out in the hall."

The change in Castiels eyes was immediate, his hand shooting out and grabbing Dean by the hem of his jacket and pulling him forward faster than Dean could react.

"You split up?" he hissed and Dean could only shrug in response, trying to ignore just how close their faces suddenly were.

"It's not like we can't take care of ourselves you know." He defended himself. "Why so tense, anyway, it's just a witch."

"Is that what you think you're hunting?" Castiels eyes narrowed and letting go of Dean, he then turned towards the door.

"We have to get you out, now."

"Wait, Cas, hold the phone. What the hell are you talking about?"

The angel turned around once more, but whatever he was about to say died on his lips as his eyes locked on the partially dried blood on Deans temple.

"You're bleeding." He noted silently and Dean reached up and touched the injury, having forgotten it was even there.

"I guess. But not as bad at that… thing. We followed its trail all the way here."

"You followed its blood?" Castiel's eyes widened.

"Yeah. I don't know what Sam did back there but he must've gotten it pretty… hey where are you going?!"

Castiel was already heading out the door, not taking any heed to the aggravated Winchester following behind him.

"Cas, what the hell, man?!"

"There's no time. Where's your brother?"

"Following. The blood." Dean repeated with an annoyed eye roll, making Castiel turn around and glare at him. Dean shut his mouth with a mute snap.

"These creatures don't bleed, Dean." Castiel said patiently, as if he was explaining something ludicrously obvious to a very small child. "It's been tricking you."

Dean was just about to fire off an insulting comeback when an ungodly shriek sliced through the air, followed by a loud crash from the west wing of the house.

"Sam!?"

Dean took of running down the corridor towards the sound of glass breaking and more screaming from whatever that _thing_ was, leaving Castiel behind. Then without warning one of the doors in front of him suddenly flung open and Sam came flying out, smashed against the opposite wall with a cracking sound Dean wished he hadn't heard and then sagged down into an unconscious pile on the floor.

"Sam!"

Dean scrambled to his brother's side, but before he even got close enough to see if he was even alive Castiel grabbed him by the back of his jacket and tore him away, throwing him back into the hallway from where he just came.

"Get back!" he rumbled and then there was a deafening bang, like the crack of a whip, and from inside the room with the broken door came a lightning bolt the size of a Buick that struck the angel square in the back. Whatever screams Castiel made got drowned out in the explosion that followed, leaving Dean feeling like his eardrums had just shattered and as he watched in horror the lightning closed around both Castiel and his brother in a sizzling sphere of sparking electricity.

Somewhere from inside the room the creature screeched in triumph and Dean felt his stomach drop to his knees when suddenly something inside his head, just behind his aching ears, popped. For a split second everything else in the world was put on mute and he felt rather than heard Castiels voice come drifting through his conscience, calm and steady like the earth itself.

_Dean… shut your eyes…_

Not even thinking about it Dean did as he was told and suddenly there was light _everywhere_. It flooded the rickety building, blasted through every crack and crevice with frightening speed, purging it to the very core. The pulse it emitted mixed with Deans own, his heart racing inside his chest, blood rushing through his veins, burning hot and _sweet, merciful god_, he could _feel _it_ all_. Lost in the sensation he barely heard the creature's victorious cry change, first into disappointment, then anger and finally pain as the raw power of Grace burned it alive.

It lasted only a few seconds and then it was all gone, leaving Dean to catch his breath in the afterglow, panting and quivering with a feeling in his body like he had just gotten his bones ripped out of it.

Forcing his shaking limbs to drag him towards the spot where he assumed the others to be he tried to blink away the bright dots of gold and black that were dancing before his vision.

"Cas…?" he ground out, his voice barely there. "Sam?!"

"Dean…"

The voice came from somewhere to Dean's left and when he turned towards it he could see the familiar silhouette of the angel sitting propped up against the stained wall.

"Cas…! Cas, are you alright?"

He crawled to his feet and grabbed Castiel around the waist, supporting himself against the wall in order to hoist the other exhausted male up.

"That was… harder than I anticipated." Castiel groaned next to his ear, from what Dean could tell barely conscious, blood trickling in a narrow trail from the corner of his mouth.

"It's okay, you'll be fine." Dean assured him, trying not to linger on the way Castiel's eyes failed to focus on his face as he spoke. "You'll be fine," he repeated. "Just… let me grab Sam and then we'll get the hell out of here."

The frame beneath Dean's hands suddenly stiffened and then it slumped down, worn and defeated.

"Sam…" he whispered. "Dean, I… I'm so sorry… I tried…"

For an eternity, Deans world froze dead around him, because no.

No, not that, not Sammy…

_Not again._

His heart clenched and he felt his knees begin to buckle beneath them both, but then a new, unfamiliar sound came drifting from somewhere inside Castiel's trench coat. A low whimper, followed by a gurgle and a snort.

Balancing himself on Deans shoulder Castiel shrugged the wide piece of clothing out of the way and reviled a small bundle made out of what Dean immediately recognized to be Sam's jacket.

As he watched, two very, very small hands reached out and up towards his face, another one of those strange sounds emitting from inside the fabric.

"I tried…" Castiel repeated lowly, voice filled with remorse as he held out the bundle. "But I couldn't stop the curse completely."

With trembling hands Dean took the jacket out of Castiels grip and looked down.

Bright blue eyes seemed to widen at the sight of him and Dean could feel the world around him tilt as he suddenly got overly convinced that he was going to throw up at any second, because _Jesus_...

"Sammy..?" he croaked in disbelief.

From within the jacket, the baby in his arms let out a bubbling laugh and then farted loudly.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean actually thought he was doing a pretty good job at not freaking out. Had it not been for the part where he was _not_ supposed to be _freaking _the fuck _out_!

Castiel had blacked out on one of the two motel beds the moment they got back, injured but alive, leaving Dean to deal with Baby Sam all on his own - "dealing" in this case being pacing back and forth through the room, trying his best not to look at the little bundle on the other bed, afraid he'd loose it completely the very moment he did.

"Alright, man, get a hold of yourself…" he dragged his hands across his face, trying to muster up some chi or whatever the hell those new age people called it. His eyes went to glance over at Cas's limp form on the bed. The angel's chest was rising and falling in a steady rhythm, which normally would have been a good sign, but when it came to Castiel that steady breath actually meant the complete opposite.

The fact that Castiel needed to sleep at all meant that he was drained; now being completely out of angel juice and having lost enough grace to balance on the verge of humanity. Dean didn't want to think about the consequences this night's hunt could have had on the angel, but the thought made its unwelcome entrance despite his protests.

_What if he lost it all?_ It asked him. _What if the person laying there is no longer an angel, but just an average joe?_

_Stop it! _ He ordered himself, but his mind just went on and on, pushing the panic closer and closer to the surface, kicking and screaming.

Because Castiel loosing his grace wasn't even half of it. What about his brother, what about _Sam_? What the hell happened to him? What was that thing in the house?! It seemed as if Castiel had known, but as long as he was out cold Dean was left in the dark. Of course, they could always-… no, _Dean_ could research the internet and see what he could come up with, but where would he even start? He and Google had never gotten along very well; Sam had always been the family brain when it came to tech, not him.

On reflex he looked over at the bed where Baby Sam was still lying, for the moment completely lost within the task of trying to fit his left foot inside his mouth…

Dean didn't know if he should laugh or cry. Instead he just flopped down onto one of the rickety kitchen chairs and pulled at his hair with a groan.

"We are so screwed…"

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

It took three days before Cas finally woke up.

During that time Dean had plenty of opportunities to learn about the fundamentals rules of parenting.

One – Babies eat. Not much, but often. And when they don't get to eat – they scream.

Two – Babies poop. And the more they eat, the more they poop. And once they poop – they scream.

Three - Babies sleep, (thank God!) but if they didn't get to sleep, they screamed. This part Dean could understand, but once they woke up _after_ they've slept- they continued to scream!

He knew his brother had always been a cranky little bitch, but this was freaking ridiculous!

Also, to make matters even worse it seemed as if Sam's intellect and communication skills alike had been completely reset to infant-mode. At first Dean had attempted to make normal conversation, despite the fact that he probably sounded and looked incredibly stupid while doing so, but no matter what subject he tried the only responses he got were a few gurgles and something that he was sure Cas would refer to as a "sly gastronomic emission".

It had dawned on him sometime during the first few hours since their return from the house that he would have to leave the motel room pretty soon in order to get food and supplies, not just for him, but especially for Baby Sam who was in need of a whole new wardrobe - amongst other things. So once Sam was asleep safe and sound inside Dean's duffel bag that had been temporarily promoted to baby crib, he drove the car to the nearest convenience store and stuffed it with basically anything that had a baby or cartoon character on the label. He had gotten some pretty weird looks from the female cashier behind the counter, but he had just fired off one of his dazzling Winchester-smiles and given her a half-assed excuse that involved a darling, but forgetful wife that she swallowed wholeheartedly.

Twenty minutes later he was back with his two sleeping companions, and once all the diapers, baby food jars and talc powder jugs had been carried inside Dean resolutely threw himself onto the free bed and promptly fell asleep.

A few hours later he woke to the shrilling sound of Sam screaming his lungs out from the other side of the room and before he had the chance to understand what was happening he was already out of his bed, gun in hand with eyes darting all over in search for the flesh eating monster that without a doubt must be the origin of such a horrible sound. It wasn't until his gaze fell on Cas that the events of last night came crashing back into his memory – that his brother had been turned into an infant by some witch-impersonating freak and that his best friend had blown basically everything but his very last fuse while trying to prevent it – and that the smaller of the previously mentioned was currently crying like there was no tomorrow from inside the duffel bag on the floor. Quickly tucking his gun back underneath the pillow Dean strode over to the bag and picked his brother up. He was just about to cradle him against his chest to comfort him when he abruptly changed his mind, stretching his arms out and holding the screaming infant as far away as he could manage with a disgusted face.

"Aw, dude!"

In his arms his brother didn't take any notice about the reprimanding tone in his voice, and simply continued to scream.

Dean looked over to Cas, sending a silent prayer that he would wake up so they could magically mojo away the mess his brother had made, but the angel didn't move as much as a muscle.

Sighing he gave his brother's makeshift towel-diaper a little sniff across the distance of his outstretched arms and grimaced.

"Aw man, that's just not normal…"

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Feeding didn't go much better. Dean gave it his best, he really did, but the chu-chu-trian technique that always worked in the movies obviously didn't work with Sam. Hell, he even sunk to the low of eating the squashed goo from inside the jar himself just to convince his brother of how good it tasted. Of course, it would probably have helped if he hadn't churned out his first spoonful onto the floor, but he hadn't really expected it to taste _that_ bad. He managed to get Sam to eat approximately three teaspoons full until he finally gave up.

"I don't get it. You're a baby – this is baby food." He held up the sticky jar and pointed to the label adorned with the face of a laughing child. "See that? That means that you're supposed to_ like_ this stuff. Do you enjoy being hungry, is that it?"

Sam looked back at him, gunk smeared all over his cheeks and with something Dean could only describe as defiance gleaming in his eyes.

"Alright, then." He got up from the chair and resolutely stalked up to the kitchen counter, opened the bottom cabinet and demonstratively threw the more than half full jar into the bin.

"There, now what do you have to say about that?" he asked triumphantly, to which Sam responded by gaping at him with a devastated expression and slowly, slowly crumple up his face until he looked as if he was about to either sneeze or poop himself… and then he started crying.

"Oh, c'mon! You didn't even want that shit!"

When Sam simply increased the volume Dean swiped another jar from the counter and wrenched of the lid with poorly concealed aggravation. Perhaps, if he was incredibly lucky, the airplane technique would prove itself more efficient.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Three days from the event at the abandoned house, Dean returned to the motel room after a quick escape to the fast food court down the street to find Castiel crouching over the duffel bag on the floor with a curious look on his face.

"Well, if it ain't sleeping beauty?" Dean drawled as he walked in, earning him a confused look from the angel on the floor.

"I don't believe my features become more or less attractive during sleep, Dean." he said, obviously not getting the reference and Dean could feel his ears heat up underneath the gaze.

"Uh, never mind… How about you, you feeling any better?"

"I believe so, yes."

Dean let out a relieved sigh.

"Great. Then let's get going. We have to find a way to turn Sammy back."

This time it was Castiel's turn to sigh, although it sounded tired and not relieved at all.

"Dean, I said I was feeling _better_, not that I was well. Besides…" he looked down at the baby "we won't be able to do anything to help Sam today, or tomorrow for that matter."

Dean lowered the half eaten sandwich he held in his hand, dreading the answer to the question he was about to ask.

"What do you mean? He's not… _stuck_ that way, is he?"

Castiel began to stand from his position on the floor, but halfway up he stumbled backwards and fell hard against the edge of the bed, grappling the covers for support. Dean hurried to his side, temporarily mourning the remaining pieces of his food that spilled across the floor when he helped the other to regain his balance. Even though he knew that Castiel would probably have preferred to do it himself he also helped him up onto the mattress where the angel laid down with a tired groan.

"Dude, what happened back there, at the house? What the hell _was_ that thing?"

Castiel groaned again, Dean concluded probably more from the memory than from any physical discomfort.

"A Grýla. " he muttered under his breath, sounding almost offended.

"What the hell is a Grýla?"

"Monsters that feed upon the corpses of dead infants."

"Oh… Yummy…"

Cas sighed and leaned his head back against the headboard.

"This one had decided to move up to living prey - that's why it didn't fit the pattern. That and the fact that they are supposed to be nearly extinct by now. I never suspected it to be bold enough to go after a full grown human." The angel glanced down at the duffel bag to where Sam was lying. Dean followed his gaze.

"I don't get it. What did she do to Sammy? Because that was a _she_; there's no way a rack like that belonged to a dude."

Castiel shot him a weird look, but apparently he didn't have the energy it took to ask what Dean meant by that comment so instead he leaned back and closed his eyes as if recalling what he was supposed to say before he opened his mouth.

"The Grýla race reproduces itself by biting other creatures, injecting poison." He started. "The victims turn, inhabiting and adapting to the qualities of their attacker, sparing certain traits of them selves in the process that are deemed to be valuable for survival. It's the evolution of a species sped up thousands of years in a single bite. " He sighed again, the weary look on his face alerting Dean that he was about to drift back to sleep again.

"This witch you found, or rather, the witch you _thought_ you found… There was something odd about her… so I went to investigate and I found out… a witch had been bitten by a Grýla three states south some time ago. A very powerful one. Combined with her knowledge and all her powers… The transformation became too strenuous and she needed to feed… Still being too weak in order to-…" he shuddered out a breath, his entire body shaking with it. "The curse she threw on Sam… it _is_ breakable, we just…"

His voice was beginning to drift away, blue eyes fighting to stay open in order to meet with Deans green ones.

"I'm so tired, Dean… my Grace… it's…"

_Oh lord, here it comes_

Castiel reached out and clasped Dean's hand and it cut through the Winchesters soul to feel how weak the once so strong grip felt.

"Time… I need time…" he panted and Dean gently pushed him back down against the mattress, watching the angel's eyelids flutter to a close with a tenuous sigh.

"It's okay," Dean assured him "You just rest. We'll have you flapping around again in no time, you'll see."

The hint of annoyance that ghosted across Castiel's face at his choice of words felt reassuring, but Dean couldn't shake the weight in his chest as he watched the angel sigh once more and fall asleep, his hand still clutching around Dean's with discouragingly feeble fingers.

Progress went slow, but as the days passed Castiel woke up more often and also managed to stay awake for longer periods of time. He was weak, absolutely, but he assured Dean that his grace was not gone, simply diminished and that it would regenerate itself in due time. For now however, he was extremely and uncomfortably restricted. He could for example not zap himself anywhere, not even from one corner of the room to the other. His superhuman strengths were gone as well, along with his ability to heal wounds.

He still didn't require food though, and apparently he could still read minds, something Dean had found out the hard way when he had mentally compared the angel to a discharged battery. It had not gone down well and Dean had been forced to withstand sullen glares and testy comments from the other throughout the rest of the day. Apparently the loss of his grace had quite the effect on the angel's usual divine tolerance towards human behavior, picking up a few bad habits himself in the process.

For example, he began returning Dean's statements with sarcastic remarks during their arguments. Hell, Dean was surprised the angel even knew what sarcasm _was_, even less how to use it properly, but more than a few times over the angel successfully managed to render Dean's comebacks into spluttering incoherencies that did nothing to strengthen his authority. It was annoying and Dean wasn't sure if having a grumpy angel on top of a cranky baby brother was the most optimal surrounding for him at the moment.

Castiel had however confirmed to Dean once more that the curse on his brother _could_ be broken and that it actually wasn't even that hard to do… it was just a matter of _when_…

"A MONTH!?" Dean blurted out, hacking and coughing violently from the hot coffee he had just managed to choke on. Castiel granted his spluttering an indifferent look.

"We are lucky it's not further away."

"You have got to be kidding me!"

Sighing and pushing himself off the counter he had been leaning on, Castiel strode over to the table and sat down, facing him.

"It has to be done during the lunar eclipse. We have no choice but to wait."

"You mean I'm supposed to leave my brother stuck like that for a frickin' _month_?!" Dean gestured towards the bed where Sam was sleeping in his brand new, baby blue creepers, quietly for once. Dean had no idea babies could snore but as they already knew Sam wasn't like any normal baby.

"Yes."

"I can't do that." Dean deadpanned, got up from his chair and began pacing the room, chewing his knuckles as he went.

"Dean, there is no other-…."

"No, I mean I _can't do it_, Cas."

He stopped mid step and turned towards the angel, pointing a harsh finger at the bed.

"He's my brother. My adult, overgrown, _Sasquatch_ of a brother and I-… Just seeing him like this, he's completely helpless and you're telling me that all I can do is wait?! I can't _wait_, Cas. _I won't_!"

The baby on the bed started crying from the sudden ruckus and Dean threw his arms out above his head in desperation.

"Oh, perfect, that's great! Now he'll never stop!"

With a reprimanding glare that clearly told him to stop behaving like such a child, Castiel got up from the chair and pushed past him and leaned over the bed to pick the crying infant up, to which Dean sighed ruefully.

"No, no, just leave him; you'll just make things wo-…"

Not taking any heed to Deans protests Cas lifted Sam from the bed and cradled him against his shoulder where the child sniffled a few times before settling down with four finger shoved inside his mouth and looking over at Dean with big, blue innocent eyes.

"You were saying?"

Was it just him, or did Castiel actually sound _smug_?

"Fine." He glowered. "Then _you_ get to be Mr. Mom from now on."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

To Dean's annoyance it turned out that Cas was actually pretty good at the whole baby-tending thing. It seemed like there wasn't any crying or temper tantrum that the angel couldn't fix by simply picking Sam up and carry him around for a bit. Dean highly suspected that he was using his mind reading abilities to figure out exactly what the problems were before they even started, but when it came down to it, Dean didn't care. Sam was quiet and that automatically equaled a happy Dean. Though it wouldn't hurt if Cas could stop being such a know- it-all about it.

"I still don't understand why you get to pick him up, but when I do he just starts screaming." The older brother sulked from the sofa, flipping channels with the remote while Castiel and Sam were taking another turn around the room, the blue tie in a firm grip between Sam's tiny fingers and covered in drool from its recent session inside the baby's mouth.

"You have cold hands." Castiel answered simply, patting the child on the back. "And you always look angry."

"I do not look _angry_…" Dean huffed.

"Yes you do. You should try smiling more; it makes your face a lot more pleasant to look at."

"Dude, stop saying stuff like that…" He could feel his ears heat up as the words made impact on his brain. It was strange how he, Dean Winchester, was able to take any kind of inappropriate innuendos from basically any female on the planet without as much as a twitch of his eye, while all Cas had to do was to drop a simple line about his face to make said body part go all flushed and glowing red.

"You asked, Dean."

Dean took another swig of his beer before resolutely standing up.

"You know what, I'm gonna prove that it has nothing to do with any of that stuff. Here…"

He warmed his hands by rubbing them hard together for a moment and then gestured for Castiel to hand Sam over.

"Smile." The angel ordered and even though he first made an eye roll to the ceiling Dean complied, giving off a somewhat strained grin.

Sam, wide eyed as usual first seemed reluctant to give up his grip on the tie, but Castiel still managed to pass him over to his brother without as much as a whimper.

Dean didn't know if he should feel triumphant that he was finally able to hold his brother without going deaf, or pissed that Cas had been right, again, but he decided to go with the first option.

"Alright, so maybe I have cold hands…" he muttered, not knowing which pair of blue eyes that made him more flustered to look at; Sam's big innocent globes, or Cas's mirthfully gleaming ones.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Once Cas was well enough to travel they packed up the impala and got back on the road. They were heading to Bobby's, seeing as a motel room wasn't to be considered an appropriate environment for a baby, and the very thought of baby puke on the seats of his car made Dean shudder to the core.

The phone call to Bobby had been brief; Dean hadn't lingered on any details since frankly talking about it made it feel so much worse somehow. Bobby had responded with his usual get-a-fucking-grip-voice, the one he always used when the brothers had screwed something up and ended the call with a "just take care of your brother, Idjit."

When Dean hung up the phone he shot a glance at his brother who was once again sleeping inside the duffel bag that had been tightly secured with seatbelts in the backseat.

"Okay, so a month, huh?" he stated loudly.

"26 days from today to be exact." Castiel answered drowsily from the passenger seat. Apparently the short trip from the motel door to the car had been enough to make him want to doze off again.

"Fantastic…." Dean mumbled. "Well, in that case I guess we're going to have to make a quick stop on the way…"

The 'quick stop' involved over an hour of disoriented shopping at the baby department at the nearest shopping center. Dean walked up and down the isles, stuffing their cart with the things he had not had the presence of mind to buy that first time around, including a baby carrier and some toys while Castiel obediently followed behind him with Sam perched in his arms.

"He doesn't want that one." He said matter-of-factly when Dean threw a yellow baby seat for the car into the pushcart.

"What?"

"He doesn't like the color." A woman standing a few feet behind Castiel gave the couple a curious look and an endearing smile. Dean met it politely before turning back to Cas with a glare.

"He's a _baby_, what the hell does he care about what color it is?" he hissed.

"Do you_ want_ him to scream all the way to Sioux Falls?" The way he said it made Dean want to grit his teeth.

"Fine, whatever… which one _does_ he want?" he asked tiredly.

Castiel pointed to a chair identical to the one Dean had picked out; only this one was bright red. Dean switched the two and held the new one out for evaluation and an approving gurgle was heard from somewhere behind the silk of Castiel's tie.

"He likes it." Castiel decided.

"Yeah, yeah, as long as he shuts the fuck up." Dean muttered, not caring about the appalled gasp that came from the woman beside them.

"Are you hungry again?" Castiel asked, tilting his head at the human.

"No, I'm not hu-… Who are you, my nanny?"

"We should purchase some food before we leave." Castiel continued, ignoring the question. "Sharing the car with you is not very pleasant when you haven't eaten for a while."

"Well then why don't you just fly to Bobby's if it's such a bother?" Dean muttered lowly.

Castiel blinked, taken aback for a moment and then Sam sobbed softly against the trench coat.

"That was uncalled for." The angel replied silently and Jesus Christ, Dean couldn't have felt guiltier if he had just kicked a puppy. A _sick _puppy... A sick, _homeless_ puppy...

Way to go, Dean, that's a real smooth one you pulled there.

"Sorry, man…" he scratched at his neck before giving the other an awkward smile. "Guess I do need something to eat after all." Castiel nodded, seeming pleased.

"Apology accepted."

As if on cue, Sam stopped sniveling and Dean couldn't help but suspect that the two were slowly starting to team up against him. The thought made him feel like he should be worried.

They made their way back to checkout and Dean began unloading their stuff for the female cashier by the register to scan. The girl, who according to her name tag was called Sarah, looked at the trio and smiled and Dean cringed. He knew that smile. After three years of hitting up motels with his brother he had seen it enough times to recognize the traits.

"Aww, doesn't he look cute." She cooed and looked at Sam before turning to Castiel. "What's his name?"

"Sam." The angel answered truthfully.

"How old is he?"

"28."

Dean almost dropped a box of fermented milk onto the floor.

"Oh…" Sarah obviously didn't know how to respond to that information, Castiel's face being as serious as always.

"He means weeks." Dean cut in. "Sam is 28 weeks, right _honey_?"

Castiel looked at him as if he suddenly grown an extra head.

"Exactly… 28 weeks…" He searched for an appropriate word. "Darling..?"

"That's so sweet." The girl crooned, tilting her head towards Sammy. "You're Daddy and Daddy are almost as adorable as you are, aren't they?"

Dean could feel his ears begin to glow red and hurriedly continued unloading the shopping cart while Castiel stood there, looking from Sarah to Dean with a confused expression as if he had a hard time figuring out what was happening.

After what felt like hours Dean collected the heap of bags that were waiting at the end of the counter and then the trio began heading for the exit.

"Bye Sam!" The girl called with a little wave as the automatic doors closed behind them.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Dean." Castiel stood beside the car while Dean loaded the trunk with their stuff, still with the same puzzled expression on his face. "Is this new usage of affectionate name-callings going to be a habit?"

Dean slammed the trunk closed, a teddy bear's arm still partially sticking out like a silent cry for help.

"Well, hopefully we won't have to deal with that many people from now on, so no."

Castiel seemed to contemplate this for a moment.

"Then why did you want to give the girl the impression that we were… lovers?" he asked and Dean shrugged.

"I don't know, it just sorta slipped out." He began walking around to the front of the car. "Ever since the hell gate you can never be to sure about who's listening in, and spreading the word about what happened to Sam - or you for that matter, didn't seem like a very good idea to me."

The angel nodded, seemingly pleased with the explanation and Dean let out a relieved breath at what looked like the end of the conversation. Too late as it proved.

"Because," Castiel said, as if he was preparing to recite a very important notice, "if we are going to keep up appearance as a couple, it is in my opinion that we should establish some form of guidelines for the demeanors of our relationship."

"Dude!"

"It's not an uncommon thing Dean, people are bound to notice if we do not act sincere." Castiel urged, taking place in the passenger seat as Dean jumped in behind the wheel. "And unlike what many of you humans think, it's not a sin either." He added.

"That's all very good, I'm sure." Dean turned on the ignition and drove out of the parking lot, in his opinion finished with the discussion. To his right however, Castiel showed no signs of growing tired of the topic.

"I continuously fail to understand why you people insist on concentrating all of your affections onto someone's physical appearance. The soul is what makes a human; that's where your attention should be aimed." He pondered loudly, making Dean snort.

"Oh c'mon!" he objected "You can't possibly say that physics doesn't matter to you? I saw the way you looked at that girl at the brothel." He added with a sly grin.

"I was nervous." Cas stated huffily. "I would have reacted the same way with anyone."

"So basically what you're telling me here is that you're what – bisexual?"

"You're trying to label me, Dean." Castiel tilted his head and looked at him. "I have no specific sexual orientation that I know of, because like I've told you before, I have never had occasion to explore it."

"Hey, I haven't exactly putted every hole on the course either, but I've never been hesitant to where my preferences lie."

"And you say that with such confidence…" Castiel's eyes shifted back to the road.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

But the angel didn't answer, instead all Dean got was a tired sigh and then Castiel was fast asleep once more.

"Coward." Dean muttered, trying not to think about how hot his cheeks felt or how his guts tingled in that weird way that they always did whenever Castiel started talking about stuff like that. Why did he always have to talk about it anyway, couldn't he just let it go when Dean asked him to? Then he wouldn't have to be in these kinds of situations, with butterflies in his stomach and a face blushing ten shades of red beneath that infuriating stare that pierced through fucking _everything_!

He threw a glance in the mirror at the backseat where Sammy was sleeping in his brand new carrier, the straps of the baby chair resolutely tied into a big, jumbled bow on the front of his belly. Apparently Cas's talent with children didn't reach beyond the mechanics of a seatbelt, something that Dean could not help but to smile at.

"So…" he sighed. "26 days it is then…"


	3. Chapter 3

The day went by with the speed one could expect when spending most of it crammed inside a car with a grace-less angel and cursed baby brother. Of course, Dean was used to driving for long periods of time and judging by the minimal fuss Sam made while in his seat he wasn't bothered by the long hours either.

Castiel, as it turned out, was very evidently _not_ accustomed to this form of travelling. Sure, he had hitched a ride with the brothers every now and then, but those moments had been brief and always followed by his favorite disappear-into-thin-air-trick so he never had been forced to endure several hours of intense staring at a road before. Now however, when his lack of grace had more or less humanized him, he didn't have much of a choice and only a few hours after the beginning of their journey Castiel, who Dean had assumed to be asleep, suddenly straightened up in his seat.

"Dean… you have to pull over."

Dean turned to him, the question of why already hanging from his lips when he spotted the pale color on Cas's face.

"Oh, no… No, no, no…!" He tore the car into the side of the road, hitting the brakes with a horrified stare. "Don't you dare throw up in here, you hear me - don't you _dare_!"

Cas however was already halfway out of the car before it even came to a complete halt, coughing and choking with one hand covering his mouth.

Dean got out and watched how the mighty Angel of the Lord who had dragged his sorry ass out of the pits of Hell churned and retched until Dean half expected to see him spit his lungs out by the road.

"You have got to be kidding me…" he groaned. "An angel with motion sickness."

Since Castiel's stomach was so empty it probably echoed inside it, the task of throwing up was finished exceedingly fast. Cas wiped himself across the mouth with the back of his hand and spat onto the ground once, trying to get rid of the acid taste in his mouth.

"Feeling better?" Dean raised a brow at him with his arms crossed. In return he received a heated, though slightly glazed glare.

"You could have asked me to stop earlier you know." Dean pointed out, but Castiel shook it off.

"The sooner we get there…" he said with a hoarse breath.

"I don't get it. You fly across the world in less than a second, how can riding in a car possibly make you sick?"

"Exactly…" Castiel straightened up. "The speed of which I travel is beyond the use of human conception. This…" he waved towards the car with a disgusted face and Dean glared a warning at him.

"… _vehicle_," the angel ended lamely, catching the look "is simply going too slow."

Dean looked at him skeptically.

"Too _slow_?" he asked incredulously, but he only got a sour glare in return. "Alright, alright, I get it, but you're alright now, right?"

"Yes… I just…" Cas cut himself off, bringing a hand halfway up to his mouth as if he was about to hurl again, but then he simply swallowed once, grimacing. "I just need some time to grow accustomed to the velocity."

They got back inside the car, Cas slumping into his seat with a groan. Dean threw him a worried glance, not too enthusiastic about the prospect of angel-puke getting all over his dashboard.

"Hey… You sure you gonna be okay?"

Castiel sighed heavily, closing his eyes and groaned again.

"Just _drive_, Dean."

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Four hours later Castiel threw in the towel after clawing himself out of the ditch for the tenth time that day and basically ordered Dean to stop at the first motel he could find.

"How anybody would willingly choose to travel in this manner is beyond my comprehension." He grumbled, holding Sam in his arms while Dean got their stuff out of the trunk.

"First thing tomorrow, we're getting you a bucket." Dean declared in heated agreement, throwing Sam's backpack over his shoulder and grabbing hold of his own bag before locking the car.

The motel wasn't the best of joints, but it certainly wasn't the worst. It looked nice, clean and the receptionist had greeted them with a smile that would have been worthy of Miss America. Dean should have known that there was going to be something wrong with it.

"What the _hell_?!" he cried out as they walked into the room to which they had been accommodated.

Castiel leaned around him in order to see what the sudden outburst was referring to, but couldn't detect anything out of the ordinary.

"What's the matter?" he asked, hoisting the sleeping baby higher onto his shoulder.

"What, the puking made you blind?!" Dean asked with a wide gesture to the room.

Castiel looked around for a moment, trying his best to find whatever it was that made his roommate so upset.

"I see a kitchen…" he said vaguely. "I see a table with chairs, a television set, a closet, a bed…"

"Exactly! _A_ bed. As in _one_!"

"That's what's bothering you?" Castiel asked confused. "We _are_ posing as a couple Dean, sharing a bed is perfectly normal."

"I know that!" Dean answered with ears red as lanterns, then he sighed, although it could just as well have been a growl.

"I'm going to ask for a room change." He announced with earnest, turning around to head back out the door.

"It won't fit with our cover." Cas pointed out to which Dean stopped, threw a death glare at the ceiling and then tossed both of the bags onto the floor with a low snarl.

"Great! Fine…!" He buried his face in his hands, rubbing the palms against his skin with a groan before straightening up, taking a deep, controlled breath.

"Alright. It's cool, no biggie. I'll just take the couch. You can have the bed - since you're not feeling well and all." He moved to pick up the bags again, but a discreet cough from Castiel stopped him in his tracks.

"Dean." The oldest Winchester threw an annoyed glare over his shoulder.

"What?"

Castiel slowly turned to look around the room before he shifted back to face the other's glowering.

"There is no couch." He stated calmly.

Dean's eyes widened and he whirled around, staring at the room in disbelief and let out a pathetic little wincing sound when he discovered that the angel was indeed right. The only furniture of notice was the large queen-sized bed that was currently taking up his entire field of vision, like an ominous predator lying in waiting disguised as a vulgar, flower embroidered bedspread. He scrambled up to the bathroom door and tore it open, as if he expected the couch to be hiding in the shower, but he was only met with a few cracked tiles and more tasteless motel interior.

Oh, he should have known that his clever plan to blend in would come back to bite him in the ass…

"Perfect…" he muttered and turned back to Castiel who had watched his reaction in silence while cradling Sam against his chest and patting him softly on the back, and he pointed at the angel with an aggravated index finger. "You better not snore..." he warned grimly, but Castiel only met the glare with calm, inscrutable eyes.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Two hours later when the sun was long gone behind the horizon, Dean was brushing his teeth in the bathroom, listening to the soft padding of Castiel's feet as the angel walked around the room outside, trying to get Sam to fall asleep. In the mirror Dean could see glimpses of the angel as he walked past the partially open door, still dressed in his trench coat and his face bent down over the baby in his arms.

It was surprising to see how well the angel had taken on his new domestic role, but even more so how well it seemed to suit him. If it hadn't sounded so weird, Dean would have said that Castiel _liked_ acting as an adoptive parent. Even though there were times, like with the car seat, when Castiel's knowledge about human technologies were slowing him down slightly – figuring out how to get Sam untangled from the chair had taken it's fair time for example – but no matter how troublesome it were he always dealt with Sam in that same, calm manner as he did everything else. Like now, Dean could swear that somewhere underneath that mysterious, noble surface Castiel was actually enjoying himse-…

Turning off the faucet Dean stilled and listened carefully.

A low-pitched murmur was drifting in through the opened door, a timbre tone that reverbed between the tiled surfaces of the bathroom in the faintest of whispers and it actually took Dean more than just a few moments to realize what he was listening to.

Castiel was singing. Or humming to be exact, but once in a while Dean heard words in the melody, only not any that he could identify.

Curiosity peaking, he sneaked up to the door and peered through the cranny at the odd couple outside. Sammy was already asleep, but Cas was still wandering around the room while singing silently to the little bundle in his arms. His voice of course was as deep as always, but rich and velvety in a way that Dean had never heard it before; less tired somehow. The mysterious words rolled of his tongue in a way so smooth it left no doubt that this was indeed Castiel's native language, as ancient and powerful as the heavens itself. They made the hair on Dean's arm stand up and he shivered even though he was still fully dressed, the melody sneaking its way into every fiber of his body, heating it up and turning his mind dizzy just trying to keep up with the changing sound of Castiel's voice.

He kept watching, not really noticing the smile that had plastered over his face until the song suddenly ended and it got replaced with a displeased frown. It was a shame, he had actually liked listening to that… then Castiel shot him a glance over the shoulder, not seemingly surprised over the fact that Dean was there watching.

"In case you were wondering, it is a very old lullaby." He said, bending down to place Sam in his carrier. Dean pushed the door fully open, leaning against the door frame with a smirk.

"I kind of figured. Enochian, huh?"

"Yes."

Cas began to stand up but halted since his tie was still tightly clutched within Sam's tiny fingers. After a moment of contemplation he loosened the tie around his neck and carefully pulled it over his head to then hang it on the carrier handle.

"What's it about?" Dean asked.

"It teaches to love life… and everything in Father's creation. It's usually only sung to small children and newborns, but considering Sam's condition I found it… fitting."

Dean chuckled.

"Damn, Cas. I never would have picked you for the musical type."

Castiel tilted his head and a hint of suspicion ghosted across his features.

"You find this amusing." He stated and an indignant frown appeared on his face. Dean threw his hands up in defense.

"Hey, if Baby Sam is quiet and happy - I say sing your heart out."

Castiel looked down at Sam who was lying innocently asleep in his carrier, snuggled up tightly with the end of Castiel's tie.

"He's not so bad." He objected and his lips quirked in a faint smile as if remembering something amusing. "You should have heard Jesus."

"Jes- are you serious?" Dean stammered out with a disbelieving snort.

The angel nodded silently with painful commemoration written all over his face, making Dean laugh out loud and lean off the doorframe. On his way to the bed he gave the even more confused Castiel a quick pat on the shoulder as if to apologize for laughing before he leaned down to pull off his shoes and socks.

"I'm sorry man, but sometimes I don't think you get how funny you are."

He unbuckled his belt and slid his jeans of, leaving his boxers on and flung the denim garment onto the floor next to him. Without thinking about what he was doing his hands then reached for the hem of his t-shirt next and pulled it over his head in a fluent motion before he sat down on the edge of the bed, pulling at the covers to get under them. He came to a complete halt however when he saw the way Castiel was looking at him, suddenly realizing that he had stripped himself almost completely naked in front of a fucking Servant of Heaven.

He quickly pulled the bedspread up to cover himself, and he was _not_ blushing, damnit! The whole routine of undressing and getting ready for bed had him completely forgetting that doing this in front of Cas was nothing like doing it on front of his brother. Dean and Sam had practically been living confined in single bedrooms throughout their entire lives and when you did that you learned pretty quickly where the line of intimacy was drawn. But Castiel didn't seem to have grasped even the simplest fact like when another dude undressed you weren't supposed to _look_! Castiel always looked at him, that part had almost become so natural that should he suddenly stop Dean would get downright worried, but there were _limits_!

"Dude, what?" he snapped and Castiel's eyes tore themselves away from somewhere in between Dean's face and hips and instead darted up to meet with his in something looking akin to panic.

"Don't give me that look, this was your idea!" Dean exclaimed loudly and crawled deeper underneath the duvet. "Just… get your ass over here so we can turn the lights off, I'm tired."

Castiel gave a next to invisible nod and padded over to the other side of the bed and duteously laid down, folding his hands neatly over his stomach, body tense and rigid like a rake. And he had been the one to talk about how sharing the bed would only be natural?

"You're sleeping fully dressed?" Dean gestured towards the trench coat with genuine surprise. Sure, the thought of sharing the bed with Castiel was making him anxious enough without the dude being stark naked, but the thought of the dude sleeping fully dressed, complete with shoes and outdoor clothing was just disturbing.

"C'mon take that off, you can't wear that while you sleep."

Castiel threw him a quick glance from the corner of his eye, for a moment looking like he was going to object, but then he obediently sat back up again. Without a word he untied his shoes, removing them one at a time before doing the same to his socks. He shrugged the trench coat of his shoulders, closely followed by the suit jacket. He then proceeded with unbuttoning the cuffs of his white shirt and then the row down his front only to be faced with yet another piece of clothing – a white t-shirt.

"Holy cow, how have you not melted in here?" Dean breathed. He had been sweating his ass off after a minor fifteen minutes after their arrival. The heaters had been set quite high and the knob to the thermostat had been broken off for some reason and was missing. The very thought of how many layers the other had been walking around with inside all this time made him cringe.

"The environmental heat does not bother me." Castiel said lowly. He shot a quick glance over his shoulder at the human and swallowed hard, making Dean roll his eyes.

"Get a move on, you prude, I wanna to go to sleep."

Castiel turned away and after a moment of hesitation he then mimicked Dean's move from earlier and dragged the t-shirt over his head. It took a few seconds before Dean realized that he was staring, but for the world of him he couldn't stop because Jesus _fucking_ Christ….

"Cas… what the hell is that?"

If he didn't know better, he would have said that Castiel looked ashamed where he sat, back turned against him and one of his hands clutching the covers, the other still gripping around the t-shirt with taut fingers. On his back, just in between the shoulder blades and the spine, were two deformed lumps sticking out. They looked like cysts, and as Dean watched the two slowly moved and flexed beneath the skin, making his initial thoughts shoot straight to the movie Alien and for a few horrifying moments he almost expected a twin pair of those creepy little things to come bursting out and launch themselves at his face, but then Castiel sighed – a broken, shivering sound.

"They're my wings." He murmured and the two protrusions twitched. Dean swallowed hard, still unable to look away from the sight before him.

"What happened to them?" He wasn't even aware that he was whispering. "Did… did the Grýla…?"

"No… This is my doing."

Dean couldn't find the words. Cas did something like that to his own wings?

"Why…?" he breathed and Castiel shifted on the mattress.

"Containing myself within this body – even now when Jimmy's gone - requires some effort. At my full strength it is but a minor inconvenience, but now…" He looked up at the ceiling, avoiding Dean's gaze as if meeting it would be too hard.

"My true form would be harmful to you and Sam and I'm not sure if I would be able to gather the strength it takes to leave this body without destroying it… Allowing my wings to take corporal form... it eases the pressure."

The hands by his side twisted the covers, as if just talking about it caused him pain.

"I wasn't going to mention it..." he added silently.

Dean raised an eyebrow.

"So you grew… wings… in order to not explode into a million sticky pieces…?" he asked and Castiel nodded, making Dean want to grit his teeth. "Man, why didn't you tell me it was this bad? For fuck sakes, if you're not even strong enough to stay solid, I-…!"

"I didn't want to worry you with trivial things." At that Dean couldn't help but to glare at him, weakened state or not.

"You not being able to keep yourself together isn't exactly what I would call trivial, Cas!" he snarled. "If I'd known I would have- Damn it, I could have _helped_ you!"

"There's nothing you can do, Dean. This has to take it's time."

Castiel hung his head down and sighed again. The muscles in his back tensed and a light shiver traveled through him. It was as if now when the secret was out, Castiel allowed himself to show how much strain this had put on him. It pained Dean to see him like that. Stupid, stupid, _stubborn_ angel…

"Well… I don't know how this works exactly," he said "but… if growing solid wings makes things easier, why settle with the Notre Dame-look? Wouldn't it be better if you went all out – grew a pair of real wings with feathers and stuff?"

Castiel nodded.

"It would. But it would also make it harder to remain inconspicuous in public. You and Sam would be in danger the very moment I got spotted."

"But what about now? There's no one else here, and I'd hate to burst your bubble, but I've already figured out that you're not exactly human." Dean settled back against the headboard, the covers sliding down to gather at his waist, arms crossing over his chest.

"Dean… I…"

"C'mon man. It's not that big of a deal, it's just a pair of wings."

For the first time since he had removed his shirt Castiel turned around to look at him.

"Maybe for _you_ it is." He said sourly. "For me, revealing them like this, in the flesh… it would be the equality of walking around in undergarments."

"Well, wouldn't that even us out." Dean said, gesturing to his own half naked body, making Castiel eyes widen slightly. Dean sighed.

"Okay, listen. I promise I won't peek if it's privacy you want." He held up a hand and Castiel who had ben about to say something shut his jaws with a faint click of teeth. "So why can't we just be honest and acknowledge that it's for your own good and grow a few feathers?" When Castiel still looked doubtful he continued "And if it makes you feel more dressed or whatever, I won't hassle you about sleeping with your clothes on."

Blue eyes regarded him silently, that ethereal gaze that could make Dean feel safe and terrified all at the same time and Dean was sure that this argument was a lost case already, but after a while Castiel's shoulders slowly slumped down and the angel licked his lips nervously.

"Alright." He murmured and Dean felt the satisfying glow of victory settle in his chest.

"That's more like it." He encouraged, but Castiel acted like he didn't hear him. Instead he closed his eyes, straightened up and placed both hands beside him on the bed and inhaled deeply.

At first nothing happened and Dean didn't know if the angel was waiting for him to leave or look away, but then there was movement underneath the skin on Castiel's back, the two lumps flexing slowly. The knobs twitched and strained, moving independently from one another in complex patterns beneath pale flesh and Dean caught himself holding his breath. Minutes passed and soon Cas was trembling, his fingers twisting the covers until his knuckles whitened. His breath was starting to grow ragged and a fine shimmer of sweat broke out on his skin, but the shifting swellings in between his shoulders remained the same. Dean looked on nervously, because from where he was standing he would say that whatever Castiel was trying to do, it was proving to be too much. The tendons in the angel's neck and arms tensed over and over, as if he was trying to lift a boulder twice his own size and then suddenly there was a loud crack, like a branch snapping in half. The sound had Dean flinch violently, for a moment terrified that Castiel had gone overboard and actually blown himself to pieces, but then he sucked in a marveling breath as he witnessed the wings on Castiel's back slowly beginning to take form before his very eyes – at first nothing but an extra pair of grotesquely deformed arms that jutted out from the spine in awkward angles, but then growing larger, taller and more muscular, sinews and tendons weaving underneath the pink skin of the appendages and strengthening their structure.

Dean could hear a soft whisper in the air when small downs started growing out over the surface a thousand times quicker than nature should have allowed them to, the fluffy quills soon followed by larger plumes and eventually even primary feathers, spreading across the bed in majestic elegance. The feathers were all light gray to begin with, but as he watched them grow their colors darkened into an intense black that shifted in shades of violet, blue and green. For some reason it didn't surprise him to see that they were black. He had never been able to imagine Castiel with white wings and seeing them like this, finally, just felt right in more ways than he could explain, as if he'd known what their color would be, but forgotten it… an explanation that perhaps was more reasonable than he wanted to admit.

The entire thing was over in less than a minute, and when Castiel's body finally relaxed the angel let out a long, shaky sigh, his body glistening with sweat and shaking from the effort behind a shimmering curtain of feathers that sang and murmured whenever he moved and Dean stared, dumbstruck.

"Wow…"

He couldn't think of anything else to say that could even measure up to half of the things that were currently running through his head. He had thought that seeing Castiel's wings wouldn't be more special than any of the other things he had witnessed throughout his life, but he had been wrong. The shadows he had been allowed to see that night in the barn when Castiel first revealed himself had been nothing but that – shadows. This on the other hand… this…

"They're amazing…" he whispered and his hand reached out to lightly brush against one of the large quills that were splayed out next to him, but as soon as his fingertips made contact with the soft texture he felt a snap go off beneath them, as from static electricity and Castiel gasped out loudly, his entire body making a violent twitch to escape the touch.

"Woah, sorry! I'm sorry!" Dean quickly withdrew his hand.

"They're… still tender." Castiel groaned, trying to get the trembles in his body to still.

"Yeah, yeah of course. Sorry."

Castiel nodded, letting him know that it was okay before he stood up slowly, the feathers rustling softly as they stretched out on either side of him, first to the one on the right, then on the left. They towered above his head and spanned across the ceiling like enormous black sails and the sight of them caught Dean's breath in his throat and made him feel incredibly frail and breakable because this was _Castiel_, one of God's angels in a sense that had never been this clear to him before.

Then Castiel sighed contently and the wings folded beneath his back with a light whisper and he turned around, meeting Dean's eyes with unabashed gratitude.

"This feels much better. Thank you."

"I didn't really do anything." Dean objected.

"You're keeping an open mind. It helps more than you think that you are able to accept me like this. I would not strip down in front of just anybody."

"Dude, choice of words." Dean mumbled; embarrassment evident in his voice.

Castiel smiled at him, apparently amused by his flustered state before he leaned forward and lowered himself back onto the bed, his wings spreading a little when he moved, flexing to maintain the balance of his body. By accident a few of the feathers swept across Deans upper arm and side in the lightest of caresses and a new, different spark of _something_ immediately shot up through his body, leaving him gasping and grappling for the headboard as his body hummed with sensation. The color white exploded into his mind and he got a tangy, metallic taste in the back of his throat. It disappeared after a mere split second, but left Dean's lungs battling for air as if he hadn't been able to breathe for a freaking _hour_!

"Wha-what the hell was _that_?!" he panted, staring at Castiel's wings with wild eyes.

Castiel in his turn looked as if he had just received an unexpected punch to the face, gaping back at Dean with eyes just as wide, pupils dilated into black orbs barely lined with impossible blue.

"I don't know…" He murmured and before Dean could stop him he spread out his wing and dragged it along Dean's bared chest in another fleeting touch.

Dean was absolutely sure that he was going to black out, if only things had not been so incredibly _white_. Thousands of tiny sparks lit up beneath his skin, heat spreading like wildfire through every single part of his body. He opened his mouth to cry out but couldn't bring forth a sound and his hands twitched and grappled for something, _anything_ to hold on to. Then, just as fast, it was gone once more and Dean was left on his own to find a way for his limbs to stop shaking and his mouth to function again.

When he opened his eyes – when had he closed them anyway? – he saw Castiel staring back at him, his chest rising and falling rapidly as if he had just run a mile. His wings were drawn tight against his body, but the feathers were rippling and shivering violently, forming a puffed up ridge from the crown all the way down; as if the angel was freezing.

"Y-you felt that to?" Dean choked, but Castiel didn't answer, eyes lost somewhere far away from Dean's voice and instead he began moving his wings towards the human for the third time, having Dean shuffling back against the other side of the bed to prevent the dark feathers from reaching him, logic, morale and something else far more primal tearing at him from the inside out.

"Hey, hey, hold on just a second!"

The angel stilled and blinked, as if he was trying to force the mesmerized haze out of his mind, then he abruptly sat back on his heels, pulling his wings behind his body so quickly the draft made Dean's ferociously well-gelled bangs quiver. Dean released a shaky breath, beginning to sit up higher, but quickly slumped down again when he felt a very evident erection rub against the covers. What the _fuck_?!

"What the hell is that stuff?!" he demanded, his voice barely avoiding the traitorous escalation that would quickly render the manly shout into a much less manly squawk.

"Lingering Grace… I think." Castiel answered, almost dreamingly, wondrous. "But I've never seen it manifest like this before…"

"Manifest, what do you mean?" _And why the hell am I sporting a tent in my boxers?!_ He didn't say that last part out loud though, but Castiel turned towards him nonetheless, eyes suddenly sharp and attentive.

"What did you feel?" he asked.

"Well it… I felt…"

_Really damn good…_

"… weird." He ended lamely.

"Weird how?"

_Orgasmic!_

"Just weird." He stuttered out. "Like, I was getting electrocuted… or something."

Castiel narrowed his eyes at him, as if trying to deduce whether Dean was telling him the truth or not – which he clearly wasn't, but how the hell was Dean supposed to tell an angel that the touch of a few feathers almost made him cream inside his underwear? His dick was hard underneath the fabric, longing for that strange sensation once more and Dean found that it took an incredibly large amount of effort not to simply reach out and touch one of those feathers again. His eyes flicked up to look at Castiel's intense stare and suddenly a horrible thought struck him.

"Are you doing your mind reading trick on me?" he asked defensively. Castiel held his gaze focused on Dean's for a few more seconds before he finally looked away, moving to lie down on the mattress.

"No I'm not," he said calmly. "but…"

"But what?" Dean felt panic flutter in his gut, but then Castiel shook his head.

"It's nothing." He pulled at the duvet, rearranging it to cover his still clothed legs and the lower front of his chest, leaving his wings free to move. "We should sleep now." He twisted around so that he was lying on his side, face towards Dean, eyes resolutely shut and his wings carefully folded around to the other side of the bed, beyond Dean's reach.

"Sleep… Right…" Dean wasn't really agreeing, but he was currently unable to come up with anything better to say. The thought of having some unknown force giving him erections was unnerving, but since Castiel didn't seem too upset about what had happened he would just have to assume that it was at least safe, if not okay. He did not under _any_ circumstances want Castiel poking around inside his head right now, no matter how much that shit with the wings freaked him out. He'd rather _die_ than be exposed to such humiliation! No, the less the angel knew about his predicament, the better…

He laid down and pulled the covers up high, staring at the ceiling while his heart continued to do the samba in his chest. His dick was pulsing in his groin and his libido was sending a flood of scorching impulses to his brain that all involved the words '_need!_', '_touch!_' and '_right the fuck now!_'. He fisted his hands on top of the covers, keeping them firmly by his sides because this really wasn't the time to be in the mood, freaky angel magic or not! He just had to relax and stop thinking about it, like immediately. He would fall asleep in no time, sure, no problem.

It wasn't until Castiel's steady breathing next to him was the only thing being heard that he realized that there was no way in the seven plains of hell that he would be able to will this straining ache inside his boxers down. It was almost an hour after they'd switched the lights off and he was still painfully hard. The thought of jerking off had absolutely struck him more than once, but…

He glanced to the right where Castiel was sleeping less than a few inches away.

Dean was all for being openly sexual, he wasn't shy or anything about the less evil things that went bump in the night… but rubbing one off with your guardian angel in the same bed was a little too much even for him, the fact that said guardian angel also was the cause for his predicament in the first place only adding fuel to the fire. Whatever it was that Cas's wings had done to him it was beyond anything he had ever experienced before. 'Lingering Grace' as he had called it, with a capital G…

Lingering Grace, what the hell was that anyway? Cas had involuntary angel-mojoed him an orgasm, was that is? It had to be something like that because if Cas had touched him a third time Dean would have lost it right there, there was no doubt in his mind. And that look on his face – as if he had been so intrigued by Dean's reactions that he hadn't been able to stop himself.

The image of Castiel's breathless face and wide eyes shot through Dean's mind like a rocket. Cas had looked as if he…

_Liked it, as if he fucking _liked_ it! _

That was ridiculous! There was no reason Castiel would… No, that was just crazy!

He tried to roll over to his stomach and barely managed to stifle a groan when his dick rubbed against the sheets, begging for attention.

There was no way he would be able to sleep like this.

He sat up slowly and threw his feet over the edge of the bed. The springs creaked, missing the weight of him as he got up and he tip toed through the room, his hand already reaching out to grab the handle to the bathroom door when Castiel suddenly shifted in his sleep.

Dean froze dead in the middle of a step, holding his breath, but there was no follow up. Castiel sighed and went still and then there was silence.

Dean didn't exhale until the bathroom door was safely shut and locked behind him.

_This must be what it feels like to sneak past your parents after curfew. _ He thought, not without irony.

He didn't bother with turning the lights on; he found his way to the sink with help from the soft glow from the street lights outside the matted window. He reached down, pushed the hem of his boxers lower and gripped himself with experienced fingers, feeling heated skin pulse against the palm of his hand and he shivered.

The first stroke made his breath hitch as the rough callouses moved over him. His free hand came up to rest against the wall next to the mirror, and he bowed his head, biting back something between a moan and a grumble behind his teeth.

It felt good, but… he couldn't shake the feeling that it somehow wouldn't be enough. After all, how would the ordinary, standard touch of his own hand possibly be able to replace that mind-blowing feeling of setting your very soul on fire – that sweet, sweet heat that licked every nerve with such ravaging delicacy?

He tried to remember how it had felt, that sparking sensation that made lightning go of behind his eyes and his cock twitched eagerly at the memory.

If he only had been able to feel it again without risking waking Cas up… A pang of guilt hit him in the gut at the thought, because for some reason it felt as if he had just contemplated… _raping_ the guy.

_It wouldn't be though_, the little voice inside his head said helpfully, _because if he's willing…_

He stilled his hand.

Would he be? If he just asked, would Cas…

_Those eyes… _

Wide and innocent… confused, as if the feeling had been completely new… _foreign_. And the way that mouth had been falling open, gasping, short of breath… like the sensation had hit him as well.

The way he had reached out for him, being just curious… or wanting more?

He shivered in the cool air, imagining how it would have felt if Castiel hadn't stopped when Dean told him to, the look on the angel's face when the feeling struck him, eyes clenching and fingers curling into the bedspread. Feathers sliding over Dean's naked skin, that wondrous sensation spreading in their wake like wildfire through dry grass… and Castiel would…. Cas would…

Wait, what the hell was he thinking?!

Releasing the grip of himself, hand already sticky with precum, he turned away from the sink and took a long shaky breath, his heart hammering against his chest so hard the sound filled up his ears.

Where the hell had that one come from? Why would his brain even-…?!

"C'mon man, get a hold of yourself." he hissed silently, clearing his mind from everything that involved the celestial life form sleeping in the other room, trying to think of round, female breasts and lace thongs while simply focusing on the touch of his own hands as he began stroking himself once more.

He slid his palm up and down the length, occasionally sweeping the thumb over the tip and twisting his wrist at the upstroke, clenching his teeth against the low noises that tried to slip out between his lips. His body was trembling and he knew that he wouldn't be able to last for long – over an hour of trying to will down a boner had left him more sensitized than he had expected. It wouldn't surprise him if that was another one of the effects Castiel's grace had on him.

Uninvited, the mental image of Castiel's face, flushed and with lips parted in a moan flashed through his head and he whimpered in the back of his throat. Fuck… why?

He was so close now, fighting the urge to thrust into his own hand, hips jerking and breath hitching as the scenery continued without his consent before him. Castiel crawling up next to Dean on that big bed, wings spreading out over Dean's body, touching him, stroking him slowly to completion while Cas whispered his name in that low, gravely voice…

Orgasm hit Dean like a ton of bricks and he barely managed to keep himself from crying out when he splattered long ropes of white, sticky cum into the porcelain basin. Aftershock rolled through him over and over and he had to steady himself against the wall with the way his head was spinning.

Fucked up, that's what this was… in every plausible meaning of the word, and –Oh God, what had he just _done_?

He turned on the faucet, vigorously washing away every trace of his shameful act while trying his best not to think about it. Because there was no reason to think about it. He _wasn't_ going to think about it, damn it! He shot a quick look at the locked door, half expecting to see Castiel standing there, looking at him in horror – _knowing_ what had happened.

_How the hell am I supposed to go back out there now?_

Suddenly, sleeping in the tub seemed like a whole lot more attractive proposition than any bed in the world.

After he had pulled his boxer back up and finally managed to gather up enough control over his beating heart to open the door he padded his way back out, doing his best not to look at the figure lying on the other side of the bed. Dean grimaced when the springs winced as he got back in and he pulled the covers up high underneath his chin, back turned against Castiel's face – he couldn't find the nerves to even look at him.

His heart was still racing, but more from anxiousness and perturbation over what he had just done rather than physical arousal. He had just jerked of while thinking about what had to be his best friend, and as if that wasn't enough this said friend also happened to be a frickin' angel!

This had to be a new low for him and if there had been any doubts before then he was absolutely certain now – he was going to hell for this. Again.

_Idiot!_ He thought to himself as he sighed heavily and buried his face into the pillow.

_How about you take a cold shower next time!_

/\/\/\/\/\/\

**So… There's probably a ton of grammar mistakes in this one, so if you find any please let me know, kay?**


	4. Chapter 4

The morning after was just like any other morning... at least the first thirty seconds of it.

The sun was shining in through the crooked blinds and the birds were having a minor concert in the trees outside. Dean stretched and yawned lazily, like a large cat waking up from a nap and rolled over to his side, grumbling when he bumped into something warm and solid. There was a tickle on his nose and he frowned, twisting his head to get the annoyance away from his face but without results, only succeeding in making it worse. Blinking and peering through sleepy eyelids the world slowly came back into focus around him and before he knew it he found himself face to face with a dark mass of thick, dark, wispy hair, so close that a few of the feathery strands were brushing against and tickling his lip.

He squinted at the sight for a few seconds in dazed confusion before his eyes suddenly flew open, the memories of last night hitting him like a knuckleduster punch to the face.

He launched himself backwards with an undignified squawk, completely misjudging the position of himself versus the bed and unceremoniously landed in a heap on the floor with a deafening bang, dragging both sheets and table lamp down with him in the crash. Castiel's head shot up from the pillow, the oil colored wings flaring out like a shield over the bed. His hair was sticking out in every possible and impossible direction and blue, sleep-drunken eyes flickered wildly in search for the source of the sudden ruckus.

"Dean?!" he rasped out, eyes landing on the empty spot on the mattress next to him and blinked in confusion when he received a low groan from the floor in return.

"Dean..?" He pushed himself up on all fours on the mattress, groggily maneuvering himself closer to the edge of the bed where he spotted Dean's left foot sticking up, still partially tangled in the sheets.

"Yeah?" Dean answered, trying to sound unfazed while hastily freeing himself from the lamp cord.

"What are you doing?"

"Redecorating."

Dean heard the soft rustle of feathers when Castiel folded his wings and then the unruly mess that was the angel's hair peeked out from above the mattress and down at him.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, never better."

Dean crawled up from the floor and quickly stalked over to the duffel bag which stills served as crib, avoiding the sight of the angel on the bed with all his might. Sam was already awake and was looking around the room as if he had never seen anything more interesting in his life.

"Hey there, buddy!" He picked his brother up, thankful beyond reason that he had something else to focus on. Sam on the other hand looked right passed him at Castiel and stretched out his hands towards him with a happy shriek.

Dean turned around to face the angel who was now kneeling on the bed and looking at him with his head tilted in that way he always did when he was trying to figure out the function behind a typical human behavior. The sight of him was more than enough to make Dean intensely aware of the fact that he was still in his boxers and even more so, that Cas was only dressed in trousers and his chest completely bare, _kneeling_ on a fucking _bed_ just a few feet away.

He immediately whirled around again, turning his back towards the scene before his body convinced his brain to do something stupid and instead focused all his attention to the baby in his arms.

"So, how about some breakfast, big guy?" he exclaimed loudly and headed for the kitchen area, but to his dismay Castiel climbed off the bed and followed him, slowly and observing as if he wasn't quite sure what Dean was doing, or perhaps wondering if the fall had somehow hurt his head.

Dean took out one of the jars with a smiling baby and unscrewed the lid, rummaging around the drawers for a spoon. The cupboard doors slammed and the drawers rattled and everything felt so loud and at the same time so suffocatingly quiet it was driving him crazy. Why didn't Cas _say_ anything?! Why was he just _standing_ there, staring as if he had never seen a human before?

_Halfnaked human_ his brain corrected smugly, promptly causing him to drop the spoon into the sink with a loud clatter.

"Dean…?"

_Fuck…!_

Castiel walked up and resolutely picked the jar of baby food away from his hands, blue eyes piercing his with genuine concern.

"Are you sure you are feeling well?" without waiting for an answer he stepped forward and placed a hand on Dean's forehead, but pulled it away just as quickly, as if startled and his eyes wide with... something.

_Those eyes… as if he _liked_ it…_

"You're warm." He cleared his throat, looking away. "And you're motoric skills are failing."

"Huh?" Dean hadn't heard a thing of the words coming from his friend's mouth; he was too busy trying to keep himself together. Castiel was too close, _far_ too close and Dean could feel his face heat up with embarrassment to the point when he thought it would simply melt of. With horror he realized that his boxers were getting tighter by the second and he tried to look anywhere but at Cas's naked skin, but with the way they were standing there wasn't anything else to fill up his vision.

Castiel took a step back, gently prying Sam away from Dean's arms in the process.

"You should lay down." He ordered and Dean nodded obediently.

"Yeah… that's a good idea. I just have to… you know…" he turned around and walked straight into the bathroom, locking the door tightly behind him, ignoring the quizzical head tilt that was being aimed at his back while trying to hide the unwelcomed erection that had taken up residence inside his underwear.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

When Dean finally emerged from the bathroom once more, having spent almost an hour in a very cold shower, Castiel had already packed their things together and was waiting for him by the door. He asked Dean several times if he was feeling fit to drive, to which Dean answered that yeah, he was alright and that Cas should stop acting like a freaking nanny.

"So," Dean gestured towards the wings sticking out from Castiel's back, having securely distanced himself to the other side of the room. "What do we do about those?"

"Do?" Castiel asked, obviously confused by the question.

"You don't think people will freak out just a little if you come walking down the street with those?"

Castiel still wasn't wearing any shirt, and Dean's eyes hungrily lapped up the sight of angel sigil scarred into smooth skin, lean muscles moving and flexing with the delicious way Castiel's neck craned when the angel turned his head to look over his shoulder.

"I suppose they came out a bit bigger than I had planned…" he mumbled, but Dean barely heard him. The thought of licking up the length of that torso had suddenly made an appearance inside his head and it wasn't until he noticed Castiel staring at him that he realized where his imagination was heading.

"Yeah, and, uh… w-what about your shirt?" he added, silently cursing the fact that he was stuttering. "I don't know about wearing wings, but not wearing any clothes is considered a criminal offence in certain states."

He wasn't sure, but for a split second he thought he saw something looking like abashment flash across Castiel's face.

"I could make them smaller." he said, looking back at the limbs on his back, though not sounding too happy about the thought. "But it's not very pleasant…"

"Will it be better than to remove them completely and grow them back again tonight?" Dean asked and Castiel looked at him as if he was stupid.

"Of course. Creation is always more strenuous than alteration."

"Then I guess there's not much more to it." Dean flicked his hands out in a "hurry-up" movement.

Castiel shot him a dithering look and then reluctantly closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and slowly, slowly the dark wings began shrinking, inch by inch until the alula were at the same height as Castiel's ears and the large primary feathers could be safely hidden underneath the edge of the trench coat… well, almost at least…

"They're still a bit too big, aren't they?" Dean said with disappointment. "I mean they're not exactly going to fit in the passenger seat. And how are you supposed to get your clothes back on?"

Castiel looked at him, eyes hazy and lungs slightly out of breath, but he walked over and picked up his white dress shirt flung over the back of one of the kitchen chairs. He slid his arms into the sleeves, pulling it on in one fluid, well practiced motion and like a knife cutting through syrup the wings came melting through the back without leaving as much as a mark on the fabric.

"Neat." Dean quirked his brow and smiled, genuinely impressed and in return the left corner of Castiel's mouth twitched upwards in a weak smile.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

They got back on the road and kept driving for as long as they could.

Castiel's motion sickness seemed to have subsided, most likely because of the relief it was for him to have his wings out. Dean on the other hand couldn't really get used to seeing those large feather clad limbs sticking out through the back of Castiel's seat, using the same magic the angel used to make them go through his clothes. They were not as much distracting as they were on the verge of turning him into shivering pile of Jell-O every time they as much as twitched, being painfully aware of how close they were to his own body in the small space they were in. His anxious fear of having them touch him however was constantly challenged by his own erratical longing to touch _them_. He caught himself more than once contemplating on how easy it would be to simply reach behind the seat and run his fingers through the dark feathers, but luckily that little voice in the back of his head informed him that if he did so, he would most likely end up driving off the road, killing them all in the process.

There wasn't much talking. Castiel didn't seem to be in the mood for conversation and Dean could barely look at him, so instead they spent the day in silence as if they were two monks on some kind of spiritual journey. Dean was desperately trying to keep his mind off the topic of last night, but every sound or movement from his travel companion sent shivers down his spine and filled his head with images that even pay per view would be reluctant to air, and he didn't find that as confusing as he found it downright scary! Why was he thinking these things?! And even more disturbingly – why was his dick reacting to it as if it was a _good_ thing?! He shouldn't be able to get hard from the thought of bending Castiel over the hood of his car and- okay, bad idea; very, very bad idea! It was ridiculous and stupid and twisted! There had to be something wrong with him; he had to be sick or dying or _worse_ because this was just…!

He was so far gone in his brooding that when Castiel a few hours later leaned over and asked him whether he was feeling better Dean responded by flinching so violently in his seat that the Impala ended up skidding into the wrong lane for a few heart wrenching seconds before he got it back under control and bit back that yes he was. Sam had a minor breakdown around noon, but Castiel simply raised one of his wings and splayed it out above the infant's head and the boy went dead quiet, staring up at the large feathers in fascination that beamed out of those bright blue eyes of his. Dean couldn't blame him; he had a world of trouble trying to pry his eyes away from them himself, but for completely different, more disturbing reasons of course... He was half of a breath away from slamming his foot on the breaks and yell out a warning when Sam's tiny hand suddenly reached out and clutched around one of the large primary feathers, curiously tugging at it, but he managed to stop himself at last second when he noticed that… nothing happened. Castiel only glanced back and gave the child one of his almost smiles, grimacing slightly when a specifically hard tug from Sam pulled the feather all the way down in an attempt to stuff the dark velvet inside his mouth. Castiel flicked his wing gently to the side and managed to free himself just before he got covered in baby drool and in return Sam shrieked loudly in delight and clapped his hands together as if the angel's escape was the most impressive feat ever to be seen.

Dean stared at the child in the rearview mirror, not knowing what to think about what he had just witnessed. He quickly decided though that he didn't even _want_ to think about it, so he turned his attention back to the road and resolutely shut everything else off. For the upcoming hours, if it didn't involve traffic or driving, he wasn't thinking about it. Period.

They ended up driving through most of the night, taking advantage of the lessened traffic on the roads, but when Castiel started groaning and tilting his head back with eyes clenched shut from oncoming nausea Dean decided that they had to find a place to stay…

"Sorry, no vacancies." The fat woman on the other side of the counter drawled and tapped her cigarette against the ashtray by the register.

"C'mon, it says vacancies right there!" Dean gestured towards the large neon sign that proudly announced that they had reached "Mount Montana Motel" with the word "vacancies" flashing in big yellow letters against the road.

The woman gave him a blank stare before looking over his shoulder at the car, which from an outsiders view visibly contained a baby sleeping heavily in the backseat and a much more rumpled, _almost_ sleeping man in the front. They had tried their best to conceal the angel's wings, Castiel keeping them slumped down and out of sight, but Dean still felt his pulse pick up when the raggedy old hag squinted her eyes towards the angel, studying the scruffy man with increasing suspicion. The angel was leaning his head against the window, eyes almost fully closed from exhaustion with his face fully visible and Dean could literally _feel_ the ice creeping forth behind the protective glass as the woman's gaze travelled back and forth between them. He recognized that look and he knew what was coming long before she reached down and flipped the switch underneath the table that sent a big, glowering red "NO" lighting up in front of the yellow words on the sign behind him.

"No vacancies." She repeated, disgust dripping from her voice.

Dean bit the insides of his cheeks before he forced forth a strained smile and turned back to the car.

"No vacancies." He announced bitterly as he shut the car door behind him. "Fucking bitch…" He added with a polite wave to the frumpy lady behind the window, who made no attempt to wave back as they sped out of the driveway and back onto the road.

"I can't believe it, this is the fifth place!" Dean raged, teeth gritting with frustration. "Does this entire state got homophobia or something?!"

"Actually, the guy at the third motel simply didn't like your car." Castiel mumbled into the window. "Or you." He added, almost like an afterthought.

"Thanks, now I feel much better…" Dean glanced back at his brother's peaceful features. "I mean, c'mon! Why are people getting so worked up over two dudes and a baby? Seriously, we even offered to pay for two different rooms!"

Castiel turned towards him, a furrow in his brow.

"You seem very upset about this." He said, more stating the obvious than asking.

"Of course I'm upset!" Dean exclaimed loudly. "I'm going to have to spend the night in the car because people keep treating us like we carry decease or something!"

"Being homosexual is not a medical condition." Castiel agreed.

"Dude, don't even start." Dean grimaced.

"Start what?"

"You've been going on about the whole 'it's-okay-to-be-gay'-speech for two days now. There's no need to preach Cas, I'm not homophobic." Ironically enough, a he said it his head was already fully occupied with playing him a scene of Castiel unbuttoning his jeans and moaning loudly against his thigh…

"Then why do you find the subject so enraging?" Castiel asked, puzzled.

"Because!" he snapped, shifting uncomfortably. "Can we please just drop it?"

Castiel looked as if he was about to argue, but in the end he simply shook his head and turned away.

They kept driving in silence for a few more miles before they found a good place to stop. Dean switched off the engine and nestled himself closer into the seat, wrapping his arms around himself and drifted off to sleep, trying to ignore the way Castiel's eyes burned into the back of his neck and the constriction the feel of it caused inside his trousers.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

The next day, Sam woke up in a really shitty mood. He screamed, and he cried, and he wailed and no matter what they did he just didn't stop. The volume made Dean physically cringe and after a full on hour of constant screaming he just couldn't take it anymore! That's why they were currently parked on a small halting-place along the main road, both men standing outside the car currently containing one very pissed off baby and even Castiel who always took on Sam with such patience began to look as if he would prefer to simply not get back inside the car again, _ever_.

"For fuck sake's Cas, make him _stop_!" Dean wailed, pulling his hands over his face in frustration.

"I can't." Cas grumbled.

"Have you tried the tie?"

"Yes."

"Well did you try the wings?"

"_Yes._"

Dean face planted onto the top of the car, groaning loudly into the paint job.

"There has to be _something_!"

"Well, he's _your_ brother!" Castiel retorted and for a short second Dean thought he could feel actual waves of annoyance vibrate off the angel.

They both peered through the window to the back seat.

"Is he in pain?" Dean asked, but Castiel shook his head.

"No. He's simply displeased."

"With _what_?"

"He doesn't know."

"Fucking fantastic…"

Dean turned and took a few steps away from the car.

"There has to be _something_!" He desperately tried to remember what Sammy had been like when he was a baby. Like, what made him cry and laugh, if there had been some kind of favorite toy, but unfortunately his mind drew a blank.

"I'm not getting back in there as long as he's doing that." He said firmly and pointed to the car.

"We could always wait him out." Castiel suggested, looking in through the windows once more, but recoiled quickly when a particularly loud shriek was directed at him in return. He shrugged at Dean, a motion that looked oddly laughable with the wings mimicking the movement. "He's bound to get exhausted soon."

Dean looked at the car. His brother could be a real pain in the ass when he had decided that he wanted something - that had not changed no matter how old he got and seeing as they didn't have much of an option…

"I guess it's worth a shot." He sighed and flopped down on the grass by the side of the ditch, resting his elbows on his knees.

The sun was shining and it was all in all a beautiful day with birds singing and a warm wind sweeping through the trees. It was one of those days when he and Sam would find a good place to park, open up a few beers, crank up some rock'n'roll on the radio and not do shit until next morning. If things had been normal that was… He sighed and leaned his head back, allowing the sun to warm his face. Things would work out. Sam would be back to normal in no time, Castiel had promised so.

He opened one of his eyes and peered at the angel, who still hadn't moved from his spot by the car.

"You're just gonna stand there?" he asked.

"No." Castiel replied and moved over to sit down next to him, almost mechanically. Suddenly Dean wished he hadn't said anything, because now they where too close again, and Dean's body was already heating up.

"I didn't mean it like that." He said, looking away. "You can keep standing if you want to…"

"It's fine." Castiel swallowed. "Sitting is fine."

Dean quirked an eyebrow. If he hadn't known any better he'd say that Cas sounded a bit flustered.

His eyes drifted to rest upon the angel's pink lips, not being able to help but take note of to how soft and plump they looked.

_Kissable…_

He pried his eyes away, that now familiar yet unnerving stirring in his lower regions back once more. Why did he keep thinking these things, they were sick!

Castiel moved, shifting uneasily and Dean had to force himself not to flinch when he heard wings stretch out behind him.

"You sure you should be doing that?" he said, looking down into the ground between his feet, heart thumping inside his chest. "Somebody might see you."

"The car keeps us out of sight."

Dean's brain instantly started painting him vivid pictures of the various activities for which the car could be used to shield them from prying eyes, but he quickly forced them back to whatever unexplored corner of his subconscious they had escaped from. He leaned back and laid his body down onto the grass, folding his hands behind his head, but regretted it almost immediately when the new position caused his shirt to ride up above the edge of his jeans, exposing a small portion of his hipbone and stomach. It was an insignificant detail, he knew that, but somehow it felt as if he had just pulled a pose worthy of a centerfold in Hustler's magazine… He couldn't sit back up now however because that would just seem weird so instead he just laid there, eyes closed against the sun, willing himself to relax.

Castiel was looking at him, he could feel it. He could always sense when the angel was staring him down, it was like radar in his head that went off whenever Castiel's eyes turned his way, and right now it was blaring like a god damn foghorn. His pulse was pounding against his ears as Castiel's eyes roamed over the edges of his body and yes, Dean Winchester was very well aware of the fact that his body wasn't exactly something to be ashamed of. He had received far too many compliments, suggestive looks and downright shameful offers in order not to know and he couldn't help but to feel a tiny spark of excitement travel down his spine at the thought of Castiel watching him like _that, _like so many women and even men had before… fuck he could barely keep his breathing steady just thinking about it.

Slowly, slowly he opened his eyes just enough to look at the other from underneath his eyelashes and his heart made a jump in his chest at what he saw.

Castiel had his eyes locked on that small patch of naked skin by his hips and he had that look of desperate panic over his face as if he didn't know whether to stay or run for his life. Dean knew that look. He had seen it for the first time when he had volunteered to get the virgin angel laid on what they had presumed to be his last night on earth. The moment that hooker had walked up to their table Cas had not only lost his ability to speak, but also breathe properly as well. At the time, Dean had found the reaction to be hilarious, but now it horrified him how turned on that expression made him.

Castiel's Adam's apple bobbed up and down in his throat when he swallowed hard, his mouth falling open in a mute whimper, but fuck Dean could _hear _it inside his head. His wings were perked up, ruffled and puffy at the arch and a few of the prominent feathers were trembling. As if in trance, Castiel raised his arm, reaching out and the longing for touch reverbed through Dean's entire being as his body pleaded for it, a litany of '_doittouchmepleaseCasjust_touch_me_' humming inside his head.

He wasn't aware of the fact that he had opened his eyes and was now staring openly at Castiel's hand as it drew closer, noticing how it was trembling slightly just like Castiel's breathing had grown heavier. He felt like a magnet, and even though he knew that he shouldn't want it he found that another part of him was euphoric at the prospects this newfound power over the angel provided him with.

Then he heard Castiel's breath hitch and the hand quickly retreated, fisting the grass by Castiel's side and clinging to the ground like an anchor. Dean could barely hold back the frustrated groan his subconscious made inside his head.

"I think he's asleep now." Castiel declared loudly.

Dean snapped out of his disappointment and looked up at him. Castiel was staring straight out into the space before him, determinately not looking anywhere near Dean's direction.

"Yeah… It's really quiet." In reality, Dean didn't think it was quiet at all because the moment Castiel's hand snapped back the rest of the world had flooded back in, the birds chirping, the wind blowing and the cars flashing by on the road behind them. It was a cacophony of sounds compared to the tensed silence that had lowered itself over them earlier.

"We should keep going." Castiel said and abruptly stood up from the ground and walked back to the car with long strides while his dark wings twitched agitatedly. It would take Dean almost the entire day to convince himself that he was supposed to feel relieved that nothing had actually happened, but for the time being his body seemed fully content with just aching at the loss of Castiel's presence.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

The evening fell silently and once again they took their refuge to a motel. Castiel got out and waited behind in a shrubbery behind the building while Dean got the key, even though Dean could tell he didn't appreciate being hidden away like a freak of nature.

"There's no helping it man, I'm sorry." Dean said as they walked in to their room, which Dean had made damn sure had two very separate beds. "If somebody sees you we'll be lucky if the rumors stay on the human side of the state." God, Dean didn't even want to think about if demons or any other nasty's caught on to their current state – one domesticated angel who had displaced his heavenly powers, one brother turned into a crying baby and the other trying his best to keep the entire group together without losing his own sanity in the process. The demons would throw a fucking field day...

"Until you've got your strength back you stay out of sight, capish?"

Castiel rolled his eyes to the ceiling, a move he had picked up since his involvement with the Winchesters, and then he unceremoniously began unbuttoning his shirt, making Dean's face pale and flush at the same time.

"What are you doing?" he croaked, cautiously taking a step back.

"These are uncomfortable." Castiel answered, sliding both the trench coat and the suit jacket off. "I prefer not to wear them when I'm in this form."

Dean couldn't even answer, instead he stood there helplessly and watched patch after patch of Cas's naked skin come into view and when that silky white fabric slid of the angels shoulders he had to turn away in order not to embarrass himself completely.

This was a disaster, this was horrible, this was… this was-!

_Thrilling._

No! Not thrilling! Absolutely not in any way!

The building strain in his pants however, didn't seem to agree.

Oh, how the hell was he supposed to make it through the night when Castiel the stupid fuck was parading around the room half naked!? He was trapped, and there was nowhere to run!

"Dean?"

He turned around, ready to flash a fake smile towards the angel by the sofa, only Castiel was no longer standing beside the rugged piece of furniture, instead Dean found himself staring into wide, blue eyes and he could feel the floor boards beneath his feet sway when his chest bumped into Castiel's smooth skin. Damn it, when had he gotten so close?!

The magnetic pull was back, Dean could feel it drag him forward, tugging him closer in order to touch and feel. The angelic symbol that had been scarred into Castiel's skin so long ago suddenly appeared irresistible to touch, begging to be smoothened by Dean's fingers… Dean had a painful urge to lean forward and lick at that marred piece of flesh until the taste of Castiel was forever imprinted on his tongue.

"Dean."

He looked up at the gravel of Castiel's voice, so low and throaty. His head was spinning with thoughts of skin, saliva and sweat jumbling all over the place and somewhere in that chaos he found himself wondering what Castiel's voice would sound like while screaming his name and it was with horror he realized that whatever this was he wasn't sure if he would be able to withstand it for much longer.

"What…?" he asked drowsily, ripping himself into clarity long enough to form at least _one_ word. Castiel's eyes were filling up his vision, so impossibly blue… and those lips…

_I wonder what he tastes like…? _

The thought barely had the time to pass through his head when Castiel closed his eyes and shuddered, just a ghosting of a sigh passing his lips. It only lasted a second and then those eyes were back, fixating him with their usual inscrutable stare.

"You're blocking the way."

Dean blinked and then finally he spotted that Castiel was holding three jars of Sam's baby food in his hands.

"Oh… oh, sorry!"

He quickly stepped away, allowing Castiel to place the jars on the counter behind him, cursing inside his head for being such a wreck. Why was he letting this get to him so badly anyway?! He wasn't interested in dudes, he never had been… not that he didn't know how to appreciate a fine specimen of the male population when he saw one, but he had never considered doing anything even remotely resembling the things he wanted to do with Castiel at the moment. There had to be a reason for his body to suddenly behave like this, and most importantly – there had to be a cure! And just like that, Dean Winchester knew exactly what he needed, what he had to do… He had to find himself a _woman_.


	5. Chapter 5

Dean told Cas that he was going out for a little while. The angel hadn't asked where or for how long, which would have peeved Dean off just slightly if it hadn't been for the fact that it suited his interests perfectly at the moment.

Thirty minutes later he was sitting in a bar a few blocks away from the motel, already with four beers and two shots beneath his belt and working on his fifth round.

He was on the prowl, scanning the place for every hot piece of ass he could lay his eyes on. There where quite a few good alternatives present, but Dean was looking for something special this time. He didn't have time to charm some giggling collage girl into a temporary relationship, no matter how willing she was. He was looking for a real stunner of a woman; someone who knew what she was doing and didn't hesitate to take advantage of it. Dean was hunting, but he hoped to God that it wasn't going to drag out on the time – he just wanted to get his head fucked straight so that he could go back to solving the situation with Sam without any more angelic distractions.

He took another large gulp of his beer, feeling the buzz of alcohol starting to come on. He knew that Sam would pull a bitch face on him had he known, but getting completely hammered tonight felt like one of Dean's best ideas in a long time and he wasn't going to let his none-present brother ruin the experience. He put the beer down and picked up the shot glass instead, swigging it back and slamming it down onto the counter with a satisfied sigh.

"That looked tasty." Someone purred next to his ear and he turned his head to the side, putting on his most flirtatious face in the process.

_Bingo._

She was curvy - damn Dean would even go as far as to call her voluptuous – had dark, flowing hair that reached below her shoulders, a body that could have been shaped in the hands of the Man Upstairs himself and legs that would have any male within the distance of a mile drooling like a dog at the mere sight of them. Her eyes were lined with charcoal eyeliner and giving off that Catherine Zeta Jones vibe, serving Dean a smile that suggested that the word "tasty" had not been directed solemnly towards the drink he had just downed.

Dean couldn't help but to grin widely at his luck. This one was perfect. He turned towards the bartender, holding up the empty shot glass.

"Two more."

The female apparition took a seat on the stool next to him, all seductive eyelashes and mile long legs accidentally brushing against his without giving the bartender as much as a glance when he placed the new drink in front of her. She let the fingers of her left hand come up and absentmindedly twirl around a lock of hair, a move Dean had seen far too many times not to take as a hint of interest.

"Hope you like Southern Comfort." He said, receiving a self assured smirk in return.

"I have nothing against whiskey if that is what you're asking." She assured him.

Dean shrugged.

"Some girls are picky, just though I'd give you a heads up."

"That's very nice of you." She said, letting a crimson fingernail run along the edge of the glass and Dean shrugged.

"I do my best. It's not often that I get to act like a gentleman."

"Really? You don't look like the kind of guy who's used to drink alone." She said with a suggestive glance up and down his body, a look that Dean returned shamelessly.

"Now, what makes you say that?"

"Being this handsome _and_ a gentleman, why should you be?"

"I guess women these days aren't looking for gentlemen." He stated calmly, lipping on his beer.

"Is that so?" she asked, quirking a brow with ironic interest. "Then what are they looking for?"

"A good time, perhaps?" Dean looked onto those eyes - hazel brown beneath black mascara – and held the gaze, falling into the steps of flirting as easily as he drove his own car. "What are _you_ looking for?"

"Who, me?" She laughed, making a light toss with her head that allowed her long hair to flow down one of her shoulders, exposing the delicate curve of her neck. "I'm always looking for a good time…" their eyes locked "… provided the right partner." She ended. Dean grinned.

"And how's that search going for ya?" he asked, picking up his shot glass with a confident grin.

"Oh, I have somebody in mind." She drawled and man, Dean felt like a piece of meat when those dark eyes roamed over his body. A very willing piece…

"Lucky guy; he must be a real catch?"

"He sure looks the part."

Dean grinned wider and tossed back his shot. As he put the glass back down he saw how she picked up her own drink from the counter slowly and mimicked his action, the tip of a pink tongue darting out to lick the final droplets from the inside of the glass. Man, this girl seemed to be all kinds of trouble… not that Dean complained.

"You know…" she drawled and Dean could feel one of her high heeled feet rub up against his leg "My place is just a few blocks away... If you're interested?"

Dean reached back into his back pocket and pulled up his wallet, paged through a couple of bills that he then slid across the countertop to the bartender before getting up and offering her his hand.

"You lead the way, miss…?"

"Cassidy," she answered, placing her hand in his with an amused glint in her eyes "but my friends call me Cass."

Feeling as if she had just smacked him across the head with a shovel, Dean did his best to keep smiling and gestured for the door.

"Shall we then?"

/\/\/\

They barely made it passed the first street before Cassidy had him pinned against a wall, tongue shoved halfway down his throat and body pressed against his as if she was trying to fuse them together through physical contact alone. Dean was returning the favor, even though he felt a bit overwhelmed by the sudden attack. Cassidy was mewling against his neck; trailing open mouthed kisses all the way from the collar of his jacket to his jaw and her hands were already underneath his shirt, nails scratching against the skin. Dean closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall, trying his best not to imagine the body pressed flushed against his to be a little less curvy, the hair a whole lot shorter and the voice far more deep and gravely. When Cassidy proceeded to tongue at the lobe of his ear he couldn't help but to feel as if he had just scored a date with cat woman; something that normally would have had him thanking his lucky stars, but right now only managed to make him feel awkward.

"You like this?" she purred against his jawline and he felt one of her legs sneak its way in between his. "You just wait until we get inside… I'll have you screaming my name in no time."

"Oh… awesome." he said, thinking to himself that at the moment he would rather prefer not to, but then she looked up from the ministrations at his neck and her eyes gleamed hungrily.

"Say it for me now." She ordered and Dean's eyes flew open.

"W-what?"

"I want to hear you say my name." She pinched one of his nipples roughly.

"Ow! Alright… Cassidy."

She leaned in and tugged at his lower lip with her teeth.

"Say it like you mean it." She breathed, returning to his neck and Dean tried again, closing his eyes.

"Cassidy…" he said, although without much enthusiasm.

"There's no need to be formal," she nipped at his pulse, which by now was racing, but not because of the reasons she thought. "Just call me Cass…"

_Cas…_ his mind moaned the name, and the rush that went through his body made his hair stand on end. Same name; same sound… but oh so very, very different.

"Cas…" the name fell from his lips so easily it scared him, but Cassidy didn't grant him as much as a look for his efforts.

"Again…" she murmured.

"Cas…ugh-!" he groaned when teeth bit down loosely above his collar bone. "_Cas_..!"

All of a sudden, Dean was sweating and panting against the brick wall, his body pulsing with a desire that he had not felt in ages. It wasn't like the thing that had happened the night Castiel had grown his wings – that night Dean had been struck by lightning; sharp and sizzling like the electric shock of a stun gun. This was _thunder_; low and rumbling, travelling up and down his spine with the rolls of a bass drum and it made his stomach knot in a dozen different ways of which he could identify none.

"Cas… ah, Cas…!" God, he couldn't stop saying it! The name rolled of his tongue with such ease and the sound was intoxicating, hitting him up faster than any alcohol ever could. He could see the picture take form inside his head as clearly as if the angel had been standing in front of him, dark hair disheveled from tossing and turning, those blue eyes clenched shut and mouth open, a thin layer of sweat glistening over that taut skin. Oh, god it was unbearable.

"Fuck, Cas…!" He was falling apart, coming undone at the very thought of Castiel's body against his, touching and feeling. And the wings, god those wings! The memory of them spanning across the ceiling of that motel room; so powerful. So _real_. The leg was rubbing against him now, hard and relentless and he could feel himself tighten from the pressure, feel as the barrier beginning to crumble and break. His hands shot up, grabbing hold of arms far too thin to be the angel's in his head, but the notion did nothing to stop the tidal wave from coming.

"Cass, wait… y-you have to-… to s-stop…! Oh fuck, Cas… _Cas_!"

And then it was over, he was done for. Castiel's face was burning beneath his eyelids as his body tensed and he hung on to the syllable of the name like a drowning man to a life line when it left his throat in a hoarse cry.

His head was spinning when he came down again, and when he opened his eyes reality rushed back and smacked him in the face when he was met with a disbelieved glare from the woman standing in front of him.

"What the hell was that?" she asked, not sounding at all impressed.

"Uhh…" Dean's mouth obviously wasn't functioning right because that was the only sound it could muster, something Cassidy didn't find amusing at all.

"You know what, this was a mistake." She snarled, pushing off the wall. Turning on her heels she started walking away, stomping down the street with angry clicks from her heels against the sidewalk and disappointment radiating all around her.

"Cass… Cassidy, wait!" Dean tried to follow her, but his legs still wasn't prepared to let him leave his safe spot against the wall quite yet. "Cassidy, I'm sorry!" His yell earned him nothing but an outstretched middle finger and then she was gone, turning a corner and disappearing from view, leaving Dean alone with his soiled boxers and abruptly unsettled sense of self image.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Castiel and Sam were asleep when he came back. The angel was lying face down on one of the two beds, one of his wings unfolded and falling down over the edge and onto the floor. Dean only watched him long enough to establish that it looked cute as hell and then turned away with his heart pounding furiously inside his chest. What the hell was _wrong_ with him?!

He changed in the bathroom, washing of the remains of cooling cum that had crusted against his skin on the walk back, feeling utterly humiliated. He hadn't made a mess like this since he was thirteen, and even that incident had been something private between him and his first copy of Busty Asian Beauties. To loose control like this in what was supposed to be the prime of his life, and with a _girl_ no less…!

He pulled on a new pair of underwear with a snap of the waistband and glared at himself in the mirror.

"Okay… now I'm only going to say this once." He grabbed the edges of the sink and leaned in on his own reflection "We. Are not. Gay." Green eyes glared back at him, almost defiantly.

"You hear me? Whatever this shit is, it has nothing to do with us _or_ Cas. We're _fine_."

The look he received in return from the mirror was all but convincing.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

It took all the self control Dean could muster in order to even look at Castiel the next morning. The limit for his self control however was drawn when the shirtless Castiel had greeted him with his usual "Good morning, Dean." and all Dean could bring forth was a strained smile and a nod before he had to dive head first into the bathroom for a quick deliberation with his oncoming hard on.

The absurdity of the situation continued to increase when Cas happened to get a dribble of Sam's carrot purée on his finger and brought the digit to his mouth to absentmindedly lick the paste off. Dean could barely hold back a whimper watching the darn thumb slide in between those plump lips.

The day continued in basically the same manner. Castiel bending down to pick up something from the floor provided Dean with an unobstructed view of his ass, causing a wave of inappropriate images to flood his skull. The quizzical look he received from Cas when he straightened up and spotted him made Dean realize that he had his own head tilted in the same way the angel usually did and he quickly returned to the task of packing his duffel bag, ears glowing red and with a low throbbing in his gut. When they got back inside the car Dean found his eyes constantly drifting to rest upon the way that blue tie winded down the front of Castiel's chest, slowly rising and falling with each subtle intake of breath and once that detailed had etched it's way inside his brain they went on to dwell on the way the stubble of his neck brushed against the collar of the shirt when he turned his head to look out the window. Every single image was sharp and clear as if he saw it through some kind of enhanced magnifying glass; the way the light from the outside reflected the purple and green hues of the angel's wings, filling the interior of the impala with flashing colors; the way the tendons in his throat stretched and moved when his head fell back against the headrest and the way he held his hands neatly placed and folded in his lap while they drove; chaste and proper like a choir boy during mass, and Lord, that thought really shouldn't turn him on as much as it did!

Eventually Dean decided that the only real way to solve this problem would be to get as far away from Castiel as possible, but since that wasn't really an option given their situation all he could do was to simply sit there and endure the onslaught his sexually frustrated brain released upon his libido. Even playing music didn't work as a distraction, because all of a sudden it seemed like every single song in his collection was about sloppy, hungry kisses and sweat covered, writhing bodies entangled in sexual activities of sin and moral absence that weren't helping him one bit!

Castiel on his part was being awfully quiet. Not that he was such a chatter box normally, but this new silence was different; heavier. Most of the time the angel simply stared out the window or into thin air in front of him, completely lost in thought and with a tension in his jaw as if he was biting the inside of his cheeks. Sometimes he would close his eyes and sigh deeply, as if he were trying to concentrate on something tremendously elusive, other times he would just sit there quietly, making Dean wondering if he was practicing some freaky form of angel-meditation or simply sleeping.

When lunchtime came around they stopped and got drive through at a small diner, which served one of the best burgers Dean had ever tasted, but he still couldn't find the concentration it took to enjoy it to the fullest. They had parked by the side of the road underneath the shade of a large oak and Dean was digging into his food with vigor that could only belong to a starving Winchester. When asked if he wanted to order anything Castiel had said no, but now he was following Dean's hands as they brought one French fries after another to his mouth with the eyes of a man on the brink of starvation.

A part of Dean was uncomfortably aware of this and was trying to come up with a non awkward way to point it out to the other and make it stop, but that new little voice that had taken up residence inside his head told him to shut up and take advantage of the situation. Without realizing it, his hand slowed down on the way to his mouth, and instead of shoving the entire fries into his mouth he let it slide over his lower lip before languidly licking of the salt with the tip of his tongue. It was a scene that could have been taken from any budget porno flick in history, but apparently it was a move that the angel had not come across before... Castiel's pupils dilated, his feathers puffed up along the ridge like the back of a frightened cat and Dean could hear the hiss of the angel's breath clearly inside the silence of the car. He didn't want to react to it the way he did, but seeing how Castiel was looking at him right now… The temptation was too strong, just seeing what his tongue on a piece of a deep fried potato slice could do and then imagining what kinds of delicious reactions it would be able to coax out if placed elsewhere… As an experiment he dipped one of the fries in the dressing and then stuck his tongue out and licked it of without even bothering to putt the piece inside his mouth. He could barely stand to watch when Castiel's mouth fell open and the angels tortured face would had been almost painful to watch if it hadn't been for the power surge that Dean felt at that same moment, seeing the other slowly unravel at the seams without being able to do anything about it.

"Cas." He murmured, but there was no response, so he tried again.

"Hey, Cas."

The angel jumped in his seat as if Dean had poked him with a stick, eyes darting up to his face in flustered panic.

"Dozing of a little there buddy?" Castiel tried to regain some of his composure by flattening his tie against his chest.

"My thoughts were… occupied elsewhere. Apologies."

"Yeah I could see that." Dean purred before his head had the time to catch up with his mouth. Their eyes met for the first time in almost two days and Dean could feel his stomach tighten when that ethereal blue gaze locked onto his. The thought of leaning over and just pull the other in for a kiss by the collar flashed through his mind and in response Castiel groaned breathlessly from his side of the vehicle. The sound traveled down Dean's spine like the zing of lightning and settled in his crotch with a dull throb. Castiel swallowed hard again and licked his lips and this time it was Dean's silent moan that erupted the silence. It would be so easy… just a few inches and he would be able to feel the taste of angel on his lips… It would be so easy… He felt sweaty; almost feverish and his heart was beating like crazy, making his head reel. And then, just like that it was over because suddenly Cas was up and out of the car before Dean had the chance to even react. He was about to call him back but the words died somewhere between his lungs and his lips and instead he watched the angel stalk away and into the woods with long strides before he fell back into his seat with a helpless whimper, realizing what he had just been about to do. What the fuck was going on?!

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Thirty minutes later Castiel came back, seemingly appearing beside Dean who was sitting on the hood of the car without as much as a sound. One would perhaps have expected the Winchester to make a startled jump or give the angel a reprimand for sneaking up on him like that, but Dean had felt the others presence long before Cas had gotten out from the shadows beneath the trees. That invisible hook that pulled inside his gut made him very aware that Castiel was close, along with the quickening of his pulse and the constriction around his chest. Dean knew when Castiel was near because it made him feel as if he was being torn apart slowly from the inside out, but instead of pain there was this craving, this longing need to be even closer, always pulling and tugging at his subconscious. He hated it just as much as he relished in it.

"Where did you go?" he asked without turning around. He didn't want to see the look on Castiel's face. He wasn't sure if he would be able to control himself if those eyes were to meet with his once more, fearing that the desperate pleading they carried would be enough to make him lose his composure altogether.

"I needed to stretch my legs." Was the low answer he got and Dean nodded, not planning on pushing the subject any further. Instead he slid off the hood and went to open the door.

"You ready to go?" he asked across the car top, still not looking up.

He heard Castiel mumble a '_Yes_' and then they were on their way.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

The rest of the day passed excruciatingly slowly. Dean did his best to concentrate on the road, _nothing_ but the road, but it was getting harder with every passing second that he had to spend in such close proximity with Castiel. His body responded to everything from the soft creaking of leather when the angel shifted in his seat to the faint flutter of feathers moving in the breeze from the air vent. Whenever Cas made a movement larger than tilting his head Dean could feel his own heart skip a beat inside his chest, followed by the indescribable urge to reach out and touch as his body flushed with heat that threatened to burn right through his clothes.

It was torture. Hour after hour passed and Dean lived on the hope that once they got back to Bobby's place, things would get better; he could lock himself away from the angel's presence and perhaps then this fucked up shit would go away. They just needed to get to Bobby's, that's all.

When night fell Dean's head was spinning on at least a dozen axels from the tension alone and every light from the passing vehicles blinded him to the point when he simply didn't bother squinting anymore, he just shut his eyes completely until the burning whiteness disappeared, not caring how reckless it was. His head was pounding, his clothes were soaked in sweat and to his dismay they hadn't seen a single motel or even town for miles, and judging by the black, lightless horizon ahead they weren't likely to come across one anytime soon.

"Looks like Baby will have to do tonight." He muttered, trying to sound cheerful but failed horribly.

Castiel glanced at him from his seat, but didn't say anything. Dean tried to ignore how thick the air got the moment the angel's eyes settled on him, but it was very hard. Every look from Castiel made him feel like he was having a shivering fit and it took all he had to keep his teeth from clattering loudly as the tremors wrecked his body.

It didn't take Dean long to find a small dirt road leading away from the traffic and once they had gotten far enough not to get disturbed by any other cars Dean put the Impala into park and turned off the ignition.

"G'night." He mumbled and turned his back against the angel, pretending he didn't notice the way Castiel's mouth open to say something. Whatever it was, Dean didn't want to get into anything that involved having to get an inch closer to the warm, feather crowned, suit clothed body next to him or even listening to his voice. He hid his trembling hands underneath his jacket, clutching against his chest where his heart was currently trying to pound a hole through his ribs. He felt feverish, delirious, _sick_, but in such a way that he wasn't sure if he really wanted to get better.

"Dean." Oh sweet Jesus, that raspy voice did things to his body he had been positive only a thousand dollar hooker would be able to pull of…

"Hmm?" he grumbled, pretending that he was halfway asleep, when in reality he had never felt so awake in his life.

"We need to talk."

"You sound like something from a chick flick." Dean grimaced into the crook of his own shoulder.

"Chicken's have nothing to do with this."

"Dude, _what_?" Dean grumbled, sitting back up again to ask the angel what the fuck he was talking about, but when he turned around he found to his surprise that Castiel wasn't wearing his quizzical head tilt as he had expected. As a matter of fact, if Dean would have to pick one word he would say that Cas looked… sad?

"Dean… I'm so sorry." Castiel's voice was mellow and once again the mere sound of it made Dean's body twitch.

"Sorry?" he managed to get out; his attention torn between confusion and arousal. "About what?"

Castiel's eyes dropped to the side and Dean's brain went into high alert, because when Castiel did _that_ it was never a good sign.

"The other night at the motel, when I released my wings, I… I wasn't thinking when I allowed you to come into such close proximity to me."

The way he hesitated when he said it made Dean's heart race with suspicion.

"Oh, so what?" he snorted, trying to sound cocky. "You electrocuted me a few times. Nothing I can't handle."

"_Dean_."

Dean's jaw shut with a faint click of teeth. The way Castiel was looking at him now… _Oh God please, no_…

"I know what happened that night, Dean."

_Oh shit… oh holy shit…_

"W-what do you mean?" Dean could barely form the words, his tongue lying flat and bone dry inside his mouth. His body was visibly shaking now even though he tried his best to stifle it.

Castiel's wings rustled as he turned in his seat to face him and Dean couldn't help but to stare at them, almost as if he expected them to launch forward in attack at any given minute. Castiel followed his gaze and when he saw where the panicked look was directed he slowly folded the limbs away, like a criminal putting away a gun, his face pained and apologetic.

"I did not think that my grace would react to your body in that way." He murmured. "The last time it came in such raw contact with you was in Hell… I should have known that it wouldn't be the same when you're in your corporal body. It only makes sense that the sensation chose to manifest itself differently."

He looked at Dean and Dean felt his chest clench from the hurt in those blue eyes.

"That night, I heard you get up, but it wasn't until I felt your soul surge from climax that I understood-…"

"Oh _God_…" Dean whimpered; embarrassment like a silent cry in his voice and he turned his eyes to the ceiling, not knowing where else to direct them.

"Also, " Castiel continued, relentless, "last night I heard your voice call out for me. Like prayer, but… not the same. I though that you might be in trouble so I ventured outside to find you and… I saw you with that… woman. I heard -…"

Dean groaned again, covering his eyes with his hand, wishing this nightmare to end quickly before he decided to kill himself.

"I have caused you discomfort," Castiel professed, talking faster as if he could spare Dean the pain by finishing his sentences quickly "but you should know that you have in no way defiled me. It was a reaction that I caused - you wanting more is nothing you should hold against yourself. There is no shame in you thinking about me in that manner while indulging in human urges, it is not to be considered a sin nor a moral violation."

Dean snapped his eyes away from the interior of the car and stared at him in disbelief, his brain slowly processing what he had just heard.

"You son of a bitch!" he gritted out. "You were eavesdropping on my thoughts?!"

"I didn't have to." Castiel returned with heat, clearly not liking the accusation in Dean's voice. "Your thoughts were screaming loud enough for every angel in Heaven to hear. I've been having you yelling inside my head for the past two days."

"You mean that you _knew_?! You knew all this time and you didn't _say _anything?! What the fuck man!"

"I realize that you're upset, but I did not do this on purpose! And I am not a pervert, nor lying."

"Get out of my god damn head!"

"I _can't_!"

In the back seat Sam made a low noise in his sleep and the two men stilled momentarily before they both in silent agreement got out of the car. Dean slammed his car door shut and fisted his hair with both hands, pacing back and forth a few steps before turning around to face the angel once more.

"I can't believe you." He struggled with the words. "How _could_ you? This is…!" he cut himself of. He wasn't even sure himself what this was. On the other side of the car Castiel looked as if he was trying to decide whether he should advance or stay put, his wings drooping with their tips dragging along the ground.

"Dean… I'm sorry." He pleaded.

"Well you should be!" Dean snarled back.

"You didn't do anything wrong." Castiel began walking around the front of the car but stopped when Dean took a step back and met him with a glare.

"You damn right I didn't do anything wrong! You're the one who had to get all touchy with those… _things_!" he gestured to the dark wings on Castiel's back, not caring about the hurt look the other got from the verbal demotion.

"I thought I was going crazy!" Dean went on, feeling anger rise from the excited way his heart fluttered when his eyes locked onto Castiel's blue ones. "First Sam gets cursed and now this!?"

"I did what I could to save your brother." Castiel tried, but Dean just snorted.

"Yeah, and what a bang up job that turned out to be. Honestly, if it hadn't been for you, none of this would have happened!" He knew that it was an unfair thing to say, but he couldn't help it. He was panicking, all the confusion and frustration from the past days drawing together to a storm in his chest and this was his only outlet, right here, right now. "Everything would have been normal!" he yelled, voice almost cracking. "Sam wouldn't have been turned into a freaking infant; you'd be back in heaven and_ I_ would be _normal_! If it hadn't been for _you_, I wouldn't have to deal with this _shit_!"

"You think you're the only one who's been dealing?!" Castiel suddenly barked, taking a step forward, making Dean loose the thread of his rant completely when the pitch black wings flared out behind the angel in anger. Castiel was glaring daggers at him, and Dean tried to meet that glower with the best he got, even though he could feel his knees sway slightly. Then Castiel's eyes narrowed.

"The thought have already crossed your mind, hasn't it? That I've been _wanting_ this just as badly as you have."

He stepped even closer and Dean instinctively backed up against the car door, realizing too late that he had efficiently trapped himself against the cool frame. Castiel came up to stand right in front of him, their chests almost touching and Dean could hear the breezing sound of feathers rustling. It took a moment but something in his subconscious eventually made the connection – Cas was shaking.

"You humans…" the angel spat. "So fanatic about labeling and dividing everything into your stupid groups as if it the order of the world depended on it. As if it would make a _difference_. You are so caught up in your own rules and regulations that if you end up taking a single step out of the box you lose your precious composure altogether."

"Well, look who's talking about breaking the rules." Dean regretted the snarled out words the moment they left his mouth, but it was too late. Castiel's fist came shooting out and grabbed him by the neck through his jacket, pressing him backwards and forcing him to arch his upper back over the top of the car.

"I did that for _you, _you ungrateful bastard!" He hissed. "And I would do it all over again if you asked me to, even if you still wouldn't grant me as much of a scrap of appreciation for it." He released his hand and Dean immediately sucked in a gasping breath. The grip had not been that tight, but damn even without his powers, Castiel wasn't exactly what one would call _weak_.

"Please, Dean. You must understand, I really have-…" Castiel's voice broke and Dean's head almost blanked out when the angel suddenly grabbed hold of his lower arms, pinning him against the car once more and leaned in to rest his head upon his shoulder. It would have been an awkward position had it been any other day, but at the moment Dean was too busy trying to stop shaking. The fever was scorching him and his pulse roared inside his head, head spinning and knees trembling. Oh God, he felt like he was dying!

"I've tried not to think about it. I've _tried_, but…" The skin on Dean's neck goose bumped when the gush of Castiel's cool breath rushed over it. "I hear your voice in my head constantly and you're _begging me_, Dean. You're begging me to touch you… to _feel _you…"

"Cas…" Dean swallowed hard and did his best to keep his voice steady. This was too dangerous -Castiel was too close again, too fucking close! So what if Castiel had been feeling that stuff too, it didn't matter, this was just crazy! And it didn't even have to mean that Castiel wanted-… that he had _enjoyed_ feeling like that!

Air ghosted over the shell of his ear as Castiel mouth darted back up to whisper through gritted teeth;

"_You're wrong..._"

Dean wanted to tell him to stay the fuck out of his head, but instead he felt his eyes flutter close and he realized with a gasp that there was nothing he could do about it. That strange something from before seared around him, inside him and he just couldn't stop his body from reacting. He almost moaned out loudly when Castiel whimpered silently against his neck, but to Dean it sounded more like a predatory growl and it shot straight to his groin in hot white waves.

"The temptation, having you this close..."

Midnight black feathers brushed up and halted in front of Dean's face, slowly sliding along his skin without touching it. Dean could feel the surge pull through his entire body, it was maddening and this time he couldn't help but to groan as the need to lean into that velvety touch threatened to overwhelm him.

"I'm trying to fight these urges I'm having, Dean." Castiel breathed. "This feeling… it's tearing me apart, I can't-…"

He let out a trembling breath and Dean collapsed against the car when Castiel stepped back, his hand coming up to cover his eyes and his wings roaring when they flipped back forcefully, visibly trembling.

"Forgive me." He pleaded, turning away. "I should never have-…"

Dean didn't know what to say. Hell, his legs could barely support him; he couldn't exactly expect his brain to be fully functioning either.

A thick silence lowered itself over them, but inside his head Dean's thoughts were screaming. His body was tingling and humming and if this temptation he had to touch was even remotely like what Castiel was feeling, then Dean actually felt sorry for the guy. In his mind he saw himself walk up and fist his hands in those black wings, feel the rush through his body and simply give in and let the need take him over…

"Dean_, please_…" Castiel moaned and Dean knew that it was meant to make him stop thinking like that, but it came out like a plea for him to de the exact opposite.

"God damn it." He hissed, prying his thoughts away from all the things his body wanted him to do.

"What the hell is happening?"

"I don't know. It's not supposed to…" Castiel cleared his throat, trying to get rid of the throaty rasp that had snuck its way into it. "Humans can get a sense of exhilaration from an angel's grace at most, but considering that mine has been diminished I don't think that is it." he shook his head, for a moment resembling a dog coming out of the water. "This is different, this is… much _stronger_."

A tremor shot through Dean's body at the way Castiel said that last word, but he managed to suppress the thoughts in his head, trying to think about something else than to touch and feel for just a few seconds.

"I don't get it. Even when your mojo was up to speed this never happened. Why would it start now when you're basically wrung dry?"

Castiel snapped his head back up and stared at him.

"Of course." He marveled with wide eyes, but then his expression got marred by a deep frown. "I should have foreseen that…"

"Foreseen what?" Dean's expression mirrored that on Castiel's face.

"Undoubtedly, the remaining grace in your body is trying to return to its original vessel."

"Come again?"

Castiel sighed, as if he was talking to a child. Dean would have gotten pissed at that if it wasn't for the fact that he currently had a hard time even focusing his eyes on the angel before him, the heat in his veins making it hard to even think.

"When I revived you, your body had been dead for six months." Castiel explained. "Before I could put your soul back I had to replenish it and I used my grace to do so. I also left some of it behind so that the transition would be smoother."

"You call waking up in a coffin smooth?" Dean raised a brow.

"A minor miscalculation." Castiel glowered.

"Alright, so I have your grace inside me…" there was a soft tingle at his spine at the words, his brain immediately sliding off track to more carnal imagery, but he forced it back with a violent snap. "And now it's trying to get back because it can feel that you're running low on stock?"

"Yes."

"So I'm not gay?" Dean asked, probably sounding a bit too hopeful given the look he received in return from Castiel. "Not that there's anything wrong with that…" he added quickly.

"There's nothing wrong with you." Castiel said simply. "It's the bond between your soul and my grace from when I pulled you out of The Pit that intensifies the connection between us."

"Well, when you put it that way it doesn't sound freaky at all." He pretended that he didn't see the reprimanding glare Cas shot his way. "So your grace and my soul wants us to get friendly, that's what you're saying here?"

"Yes." Cas agreed, clearing his throat one more time.

"And how long will it be until things go back to normal?"

Castiel shrugged.

"A few days, a month..." he threw his hands out in a typical human gesture. "Time is relative. As things are now I can't even return to heaven in any form, so my recovery is limited." He looked at Dean, almost hesitantly. "However…" he mumbled, "the grace I left behind in your molecular structure has obviously found a way to channelize back through physical proximity. The remaining grace inside my vessel can feel its presence and beckons for it. In such a way, being close to you… invigorates me."

Dean thought about the statement for a few second, allowing the meaning behind it settle completely before he spoke.

"So…" he said slowly, closing his eyes momentarily before he continued. "We can either try to wait _this_…" he gestured back and forth between them "…out, for whatever time it takes, or we could just…" he let the sentence trail off.

"… let things have it's course." Castiel finished.

God, Dean could have given anything to say that he wasn't tempted by the offer, but he was. Oh, sweet lord, he was…

Dean licked his lips. Castiel's eyes caught on to the movement and followed it, as if spell bound and the feathers on the crest of his wings puffed out in a motion that Dean for some reason found to be obscenely sexy.

"So… What do you think?" Dean whispered, noticing how those blue eyes snapped back from his lips and up to his eyes when he spoke. The raw lust he saw in them made his stomach swirl.

"It would be more efficient…" Castiel said, taking a step closer.

"It would…" Dean echoed, breathless.

"My grace would return faster." Another step.

"Yeah… yeah, I guess so."

A part of Dean was panicking, ordering him to stop the fuck agreeing and just tell Cas what a shitty idea that was, but another, much stronger part of him smothered that voice with a single, breath taken '_yes!_'. He wanted, and he didn't care why or how, not now when the release he had been searching for was right here in front of him, all eager and willing.

The space between their bodies decreased but just when Dean expected Castiel to close the gap, those few eluding millimeters, the angel stopped. The expression covering his face was pained, struggling between what he knew would be the righteous thing to do and what he wanted for himself.

"I can't…" he said hoarsely and his voice was strained with the effort it took to form the words. "I can't do it. It wouldn't be right of me to take advantage of you."

He shifted his weight, beginning to step back, but that was as far as he got before Dean grabbed hold of the front of his coat and pulled him back into a harsh kiss with a growl, slipping his tongue in-between Castiel's shocked lips and relishing in the embarrassingly loud moan that wrenched itself out of the angel's mouth. His other hand reached back and buried itself amongst dark feathers and Castiel tore himself away from the kiss with a hoarse cry.

"_Dean…!_"

But Dean didn't hear him; he was too busy staying conscious through the onslaught of sensations that crashed through his system. It was unbearable. It was horrible. It was wonderful and painfully good, oh so good! His body tensed and his hips jerked helplessly into thin air, but it didn't matter because he was in and over before he had the chance to even anticipate it. The hand on Castiel's collar shot out and clasped around the base of the other wing, pulling their bodies closer and this time he could hear it, Castiel shouting out his name in a strangled moan and he felt the desperate clawing of blunt fingernails against his chest and he was gone, gone, gone, scorching hot grace filling up his vision, his body, his _everything_...

When he came to Castiel was still leaning heavy on his shoulder, panting and gasping for breath, dark wings slumping down in exhaustion and moving in time with the ragged breaths.

"Shit…" was all his buzzed mind could produce and even that didn't quite sound right.

He realized that his hands were still clenched around Castiel's wings and he slowly let go, the angel against his neck shuddering when the pressure disappeared, although Dean concluded, not in a painful way. He looked down almost expecting to see a big wet stain on the front of his jeans from the massive load he must have released into his boxers, for the second time in less than 24 hours. Damn it, at this rate he would have to stock up on his underwear supply or start wearing a condom at all times.

Castiel untangled himself from Dean's body and straightened, ruffling his feathers up before smoothing them out and folding the large wings neatly behind his back. The sight made Dean snort out a laughter – Castiel looked like a cat that had just gotten his fur rumpled, all poise and huffed dignity.

"You know, one of these days I might actually smite you for thinking things like that." Castiel scolded.

"Guess you better stop poking around inside my head then." Dean returned, quirking a brow.

"Unlikely. Being able to read your mind is the only advantage I have nowadays." He looked up at Dean, suddenly serious.

"You didn't have to do what you just did. I want you to know that I am grateful for it."

"Yeah, because orgasms have always been such an ordeal for me." Dean answered with sarcasm dripping of his tongue.

Castiel gave him a long look of suspicion.

"I thought you would feel more…violated?" he asked, tilting his head and Dean shrugged in response.

"You and me both."

"That is quite confusing considering the effort you have put down in order to avoid this."

"Why I-… I-I though that we'd have to… you know…" he let the stuttering sentence trail of, heat rising on his face. Castiel peered his eyes at him before he finally understood where the hunter was going.

"You thought that we would have to engage in sexual intercourse." He stated and Dean cleared his throat.

"Basically, yeah. I mean, with the way my body has been acting, I-…"

"Your body reacts with physical arousal because it is the closest thing it can ever come to grasping the full context of grace. My vessel does the same."

The mental image of Castiel fisting a raging hard on flashed through Dean's buzzed mind and Castiel responded by giving him a composed look.

"I'm flattered by your imagination, Dean, but that part does not apply to me."

"Shut up, we both know that you're fully capable of getting a boner, angel boy." Dean spluttered.

"I am." There was almost a hint of pride in the angel's voice. "But in contrary to you, the grace flowing through my system is my own, and so I don't need the physical release that your body craves."

"You're telling me that I'm the only one acting like I'm sexually depraved because of this?"

"No. But you _are_ the only one who requires physical orgasm in order to keep the grace from burning you up."

Dean's face paled and he stared at the angel in disbelief.

"What?"

Castiel looked surprised.

"I thought you were aware." He said. "The fever? Dizziness? The uneven heartbeat?"

Dean stilled, realizing at the angel's words that the fever was indeed gone. As if the grace had washed it away as it spiked through him just now.

"Hell yes I felt it, but I thought…" He cut himself off and stared at Castiel with eyes blown wide with realization.

"Holy shit you mean that this could have _killed_ me?!"

"Had you not granted it release? In time, yes."

"Wow, thanks for the heads up there, buddy." Dean glared, but he was feeling way too tired to get into another fight, not tonight, so instead he sighed and leaned back against the side of his car, folding his arms across his chest.

"So… what's the plan? Is there like a schedule or something? How often are we going to have to do this exactly?"

"As often at it takes." Castiel declared resolutely.

"I feel so much better already…" Dean groaned.

"Dean."

"I know, I know… But you have to admit that this is some pretty fucked up shit!"

Castiel regarded him calmly.

"You are uncomfortable with the thought of being close to another male body in that manner, I am aware of this. But if you want to stay alive until my grace has been restored, then this is necessary."

"I _know_." Dean huffed.

"So we don't have to argue about this further then?"

Dean glared at him.

He knew that he was supposed to feel both disgusted and abused about this whole thing, but if he looked back on all the other fucked up things he had done during his life… Because to be honest, during the past five years he had successfully managed to sell his soul to hell, get resurrected from the dead by the very person standing in front of him, flip an archangel the finger and even avert a pending apocalypse that he himself had caused in the first place.

Needless to say, the thought of what had taken place during the last 48 hours were mindboggling to say the least and he wasn't really ready to go into any details of the things his body had been willing to do; was _still_ willing to do, but… if having regular orgasms was the only thing keeping him alive…

"Alright." He threw his arms out in surrender. "I'm not saying I'm comfortable with this, but… I guess I don't have much of a choice. Now, if Your Grace won't mind, I think I need to change my clothes and get some sleep." He gestured towards the car and Castiel nodded, pretending he didn't hear the wordplay Dean had just pulled.

"That is probably a good idea."

Dean retrieved a new pair of underwear from his pack in the backseat and swiftly changed behind the car while Castiel politely looked the other way before climbing in behind the wheel once more, but poked his head back out one final time before he slammed the door shut.

"Hey… I was thinking…" he cleared his throat, trying to sound unfazed. "There's no reason for us to tell Bobby about this, right?"

Castiel shook his head reassuringly.

"No. There is not."

The Winchester sighed, visibly relieved.

"Good... That's… great."

Castiel watched the human as he nestled into the driver's seat, and then looked up at the sky, trying to still the vicious hammering of the heart inside his chest. He could hear the thoughts spinning inside the hunter's head – the dazzling mix of confusion, desire, fear and pride. His grace stirred in response and made it very hard to keep his eyes focused on the glimmer of the starts above. His entire being was calling out for the grace still residing inside Dean Winchester's body, but he willed it to quiet. He couldn't allow this urge to get the better of him. He had to stay strong, for Dean's sake.

Even though he had been offered an opportunity to relieve himself from the physical craving of the hunter's proximity he had not taken it. As he said earlier he should not require it in order to receive the grace coming from the other's body, and so he had forced himself to hold back and not simply throw himself over Dean like his body wanted him to, because he wasn't sure if _Dean_ wanted him to.

He was putting restraints on himself, but this new need for physical release was like torture, an unexplored addiction that he had never experienced before in his time of existence and he _wanted_ it! He had endured the sight and feel of Dean's soul calling out to him in euphoria for the span of almost two weeks from the moment he woke up after the attack, long before Dean had even laid hands on his wings, and the walls he had worked so hard to raise against his carnal urges were starting to crumble from the pressure.

"Tomorrow" he whispered shakily, feeling his stomach tighten at the thought of Dean's fingers touching him again, willingly, affectionately.

_Tomorrow… He had to make it until tomorrow…_

__/\/\/\/\/\/\

_Yeah, so this turned into quite an agreable situation, right? _

_And Dean seems to be dealing with this new piece of information sooo well, right?  
_

_...  
_

_Right...?_


	6. Chapter 6

It was strange, Dean concluded, how drastically the mood inside the car had changed since yesterday. Just like his fever the heaviness and suffocating silence was gone, replaced by the usual noise of Baby's radio which at the moment was blaring out "Here I go again" by Whitesnake through the speakers. Dean was humming along in the chorus and thrumming his fingers cheerfully against the wheel in time with the beat, feeling optimistic and genuinely happy for the first time in what seemed to be like ages. The events of last night were still fresh in his memory, but he was determined not to let them ruin his mood, not today. He could deal with his panicking manliness later, but not here and not now. The chorus of the song was drawing closer, the climax building steadily and Dean could feel the rhythm strum its way into his very core in that way it only did when you were really getting into the groove and his hands whacked against the steering wheel harder. Glancing to the side he caught one of Castiel's index fingers mimicking the movement, but the angel's stoic face showed no signs of sharing the human's enthusiasm about the song. His wings, however, well… that was a different story.

Now when Dean was not overcome by gut-wrenching dread just by hearing them move he had actually taken the time to study them through the corner of his eye as he drove, piecing together the information he had come to learn about them during the past few days. Turned out, Castiel's wings were to an angel what a tail or ears were to a dog or cat. When he got annoyed they puffed up slightly at the rims, making him look obscenely much like an offended, cartoon owl. When he got angry they billowed at his sides like omniscient, black storm clouds and if he got sad or disappointed they slumped down, the long primary feathers barely avoiding being dragged through the soil of the ground.

At the moment however, they were raised high, perky and attentive; a sure sign that the angel was in a good mood this morning and like the icing on the cupcakes that were Dean's new discoveries, the hunter had also noticed that whenever Cas found something to be amusing, the large feathers tended to quiver slightly, as if the wings were filled to the brim with mirth that just had to get out.

Like now, when Dean unabashedly released a full on drum solo onto the steering wheel while trying his best to mimic an electric guitar with his voice, Castiel's wings shuddered and filled the car with the whisper of a hundred feathers.

"Oh, c'mon it wasn't that bad?" Dean tried to sound offended, but without succeeding.

"I'm sure that..." Castiel leaned over and looked at the case for the cassette tape that was currently playing inside the stereo. "… the white snakes would be very impressed."

"You bet your ass they'd be impressed. With skills like these? They'd hire me before you got the chance to say 'pie' in Enochian."

"I'm afraid that would counteract the purpose since that word actually takes quite some time to say." Castiel retorted calmly; his serious act ruined only by the soft tremble that travelled through the dark quills.

"Dude, you can't even be sarcastic with those things out, they ruin everything." Dean grinned widely and another soft rustle was heard in response. "On the other hand…" he continued as an afterthought, "I like that they do that. Knowing you can joke on purpose makes you feel less intimidating at times."

Castiel turned to look at him, and the wings lowered a few inches.

"You find me intimidating?" he asked silently and even though the wings gave a pretty good hint Dean also caught on to the injured tone in the other's voice.

"No! No, that's not what I meant, I just… I mean, you _are _an angel after all."

He shot said angel a glance, but was only met with a look of complete perturbation, so he tried again.

"You remember that time when we just met?" he asked. "After that night in the barn?"

"You mean after you tried to shoot and stab me?"

A pang of guilt went off inside Dean's chest at the tone of Castiel's voice, because damnit the angel actually sounded hurt.

"Uhhh… yeah… I guess, but that's not-.."

"Because I have been trying very hard to forget about that." Castiel turned to look out through the window, shoulders pulling up in a sulk, wings drawing tighter around him. Dean gave him a shallow, comforting nudge in the side.

"Cas, c'mon you know I didn't mean that." He tried, but Castiel's face simply burrowed closer to the glass.

"You are not very convincing." He grumbled.

"Seriously?" Dean's eyebrows shot up. "That was ages ago, man! And I didn't even know who you were back then; you just blasted in all of a sudden; thunder clashing, lights exploding, taking Bobby out… I mean, what did you think was going to happen?"

"You hurt my feelings, Dean." Castiel deadpanned and Dean sighed. He had thought the angel would be less touchy now that their current situation was out in the open, but apparently the lack of grace was still causing some serious mood swings.

"Cas… c'mon, don't be like that. Hey, I'm sorry okay? I didn't mean to... try and kill you." God, it sounded a thousand more times stupid saying it out loud than thinking it.

"I don't know if I believe you, Dean."

"But I-…" he interrupted what surely would have ended in a stuttering mess when he heard the quiet murmur of feathers rustling behind his seat and when he looked away from the road ahead he caught on to the amused glint of blue in the angel's eyes.

"You ass…" he muttered, failing to keep his own mouth from splitting open in a wide grin.

"Apologies." The angel straightened in his seat, lips pulling into a near invisible smile while the feathers sang humor from the backseat. "I couldn't resist."

"Oh, I bet you could have, you just didn't want to. "

"I merely wished to prove a point. My wings may be a very communicative part of me, but as you can see I am perfectly capable of hiding my emotions, should I feel like it."

"By being an ass, apparently…" Dean muttered, feeling a bit sheepish. He had actually been worried that Cas was mad at him for real. He would never in his wildest dreams have suspected that the angel was trolling him!

"To be honest I did not expect it to work." Castiel commented. "You made it quite easy."

"Ha-ha, very funny." Dean grimaced. "Now how about you could get serious for a moment and listen to what I was going to say? I was talking about that time in Bobby's kitchen… you know, when you threatened to throw me back into the pit if I didn't start showing you some respect?"

"I remember." Castiel nodded. "You were quite a nuisance to deal with then. Come to think of it, you haven't changed much."

"You're turning into a proper smartass today aren't you?"

"I'm learning."

"Do you wanna hear this or not?"

"By all means."

Dean took a deep breath, thinking about how he was supposed to phrase this without sounding like a jerk and a wuss at the same time.

"It's not that I'm scared of you," he clarified, "it's just that seeing you with your wings out; like real flesh and blood wings… It kinda snapped me back to reality you know. You've been around for so long now I keep forgetting that you're not actually... human." He darted his eyes to the side, but Castiel was just looking back at him, expectantly.

"That night at Bobby's," he cleared his throat. "I didn't know who or what you were, or why you did the things you claimed to have done and having you right there up in my face telling me that you'd hurl me straight back into the pit unless I played ball, I-… I actually thought that you would do it… throw me back in, I mean."

"I would have." Cass agreed. "If the Host had ordered me to." When Dean didn't answer he continued, voice softening. "But that was a long time ago. The orders of Heaven don't wield the same power over me as they used to."

"Why, I'm glad to hear _that_." Dean quipped with an eye roll.

Castiel shifted in his seat, turning fully towards him, face suddenly serious and eyes filled to the brim with that revering devotion that always sent the butterflies in Dean's stomach on a rampage; this time being no different with the grace inside him responding to the blue gaze in favor by speeding up his pulse and making it hard to breathe.

"I would never allow you to get hurt, Dean." The angel declared solemnly, seemingly oblivious to what that look did to the human in front of him. "It is my duty to keep you safe."

"Dude, it's not like it's your job to look out for me." Dean objected, turning away to mentally count the stripes on the road in front of them to keep his thoughts occupied on something other than the imaginary feel of Castiel's hands on his body. "We already stopped the apocalypse, there's no need to-"

"There is." Castiel interrupted firmly. "You're the one who taught me about the value of free will and this is me honoring that tutorage. Watching over you is my choice and neither Heaven nor Hell will be able to change it for me."

Dean dared a quick glance at the angel's face, toes curling dangerously inside his shoes as he watched the angel's lips move but he managed to rip his eyes away and smile when Castiel's blunt confession of gratitude made its way to his ears.

"There's no need for grand speeches, Cas." He laughed, oddly moved by the sudden proclamation. "I appreciate the gesture, but you don't owe me anything… You're free to leave whenever you want."

"And free to stay as well?" the angel asked and Dean chuckled.

"Yeah, that too."

Castiel looked back at him, his lips barely twitching but still conveying a smile so bright Dean could feel it beam against the side of his face before the angel's eyes suddenly widened, growing impossibly dark and he turned away with a shudder.

"What?" Dean asked, letting his foot off the gas pedal, preparing to stop should something be wrong. Castiel might have gotten more used to riding in the car, but Dean was not willing to trust him not to ruin the interior just yet.

"I think…" the angel cleared his throat, voice low and raspy. "You might want to concentrate on the road for a while."

"Why, what's wrong?"

Castiel shot him a quick glance from the corner of his eye, groaning silently when their gazes met, but he didn't turn away, as if shackled in place by some invisible force. Something shone behind those eyes, something bright and flaring, like a match in the dark and Dean's throat was pulling tight, his own eyes sliding over the features of the angel's face, lingering for a split second on the soft, chapped curve of lips… He wondered if he… perhaps if only…

"I can still hear you think, you know."

Dean's face went beet red faster than a traffic light.

"Shut up!" he spluttered, tearing his eyes away and fastening them on the road ahead.

"There's no need to be embarrassed, Dean. You can't help yourself."

"I'm not talking to you, pervert."

Castiel straightened up slightly, letting out a sarcastic chuckle.

"I'd say considering the thoughts you just had about my mouth, you're the one who's a-…"

"Didn't I just tell you to shut up?"

There was a brief silence and then…

"That position is not anatomically possible, Dean."

"Oh for the_ love _of-..!"

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Bobby's truck was parked on the driveway when they finally arrived sometime just before midnight and even though there was a minimum of lights on inside the house it was a very alert Bobby that opened the door for them.

"Hi Bobby." Dean greeted, receiving a grumpy look from the old man.

"You know what time it is, boy?"

Dean rolled his eyes to the sky.

"Save us the lecture, will you." He gestured to the hallway on the other side of the open door. "Are you gonna let us in or what?"

"You were supposed to be here hours ago." Bobby grunted, but stepped aside for them to enter. When Cass walked in through the doorway the old hunter's eyes widened slightly but he didn't comment on the two feather-clad limbs sticking out of the angel's back. When his gaze fell upon the carrier in Cas's hand however, he couldn't hold back.

"Jesus, you weren't kidding when you told me he had shrunk, were you?"

"He's fine, Bobby." Dean assured him. "As soon as the lunar eclipse comes around he'll be as good as new."

Bobby took of his cap and scratched his head with a sigh.

"It's been a while since there was anything this small under my roof…" he tilted his head and for a moment Dean thought the lines on the old man's face seemed to fade, no longer appearing as deep or dark. A tender expression swept over his features, as if he was thinking back on better times, the weary weight on his shoulders letting up for just a moment and Dean's thoughts went to lazy afternoons in the park, the warm, musky smell of a baseball glove and the burning ache of tired muscles in his pitching arm, but then Bobby straightened up and put the cap back on and just like that the spell was broken.

The old man turned towards them, shaking his head.

"You idjits better be right about this lunar eclipse thing." He muttered before closing the door behind them.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Bobby's attic was crammed with boxes and old furniture and judging by the thick layer of dust that covered everything Dean guessed that it had been a while since anything living spent time up here.

At the moment Bobby was busy rummaging around in one of the far corners while Dean held up the flashlight with one hand and covered his mouth and nose with the other, providing the man with as much light as he could without having to venture further into the maze of cartons and whirling dust himself.

"Not much for spring cleaning, are you Bobby?" he called out nasally, receiving a huff from the corner.

"There's a broom in the closet downstairs if you're feeling bored, Cinderella."

"Naw, I'm fine." Dean hurriedly assured him.

"That's what I thought… Ha!"

A triumphant noise was heard and then Bobby emerged from the raffle with a large cardboard box balancing underneath his left arm and what looked like a picket fence under the other.

"Here, make yourself useful."

Dean caught the box Bobby threw at him, expecting it to weigh tons going by the size of it, but almost toppled over from overcompensation when it turned out to weigh less than his duffel bag downstairs.

They made their way back down to the living room where Castiel was entertaining Sammy with a game of hide and seek – meaning that Cas hid Sam underneath the edge of a blanket and then waited for the boy to pull it away, the baby shrieking with laughter every time he discovered that the angel was still there.

"Having fun?" Dean smirked as he put the box down.

"He seems to be enjoying himself." Cas tilted his head, not looking up from the beaming face below him. "Although I can't understand why he insists on getting so surprised every time."

Dean laughed and turned to Bobby, helping him place the wooden rails on the floor.

"So, what is all this?" he asked, poking the box with his foot.

"It's yours." Bobby grumbled. "Or, mostly Sam's, you were a bit too old."

Dean shot him a quizzical glance and then sat down and carefully pried the dusty lid open.

"Wow, look at all this stuff…!" His hands dug down amongst the various items and the hunter let out a happy little noise when they clutched around something lying at the bottom of the box. "Hey, I remember this!" He pulled out a stuffed toy clown and held it up on display for the rest of the members in the room to see, but as he did Sam immediately started screaming from his place on Castiel's lap.

"Okay, okay, so maybe not that one." Dean quickly returned the clown to the box and Cas put the blanket back over Sam's face, making him go instantly silent.

"Hey, this one's mine." Dean pulled out a miniature action figure of Captain America, "I can't believe you kept all this." He added to Bobby who was looking over his shoulder at the toys in the box.

"Well, I couldn't throw away something that wasn't mine." The old hunter grumbled, secretly enjoying the younger man's enthusiasm.

"This is awesome… Oh, look!" A wooden box joined Captain America on the floor and once opened it revealed a vast collection of little, green, plastic army men. Dean made another delighted sound, grinning like a kid at Christmas and Bobby shook his head, although failing to hold back a smile himself.

"Hey, get your head out of your ass and help me with this." He picked up one of the picket fence pieces and dusted it off,

"What is that?" Cas asked over the loud giggles Sam made when he pulled the cover away and revealed the angel once more.

"It's Sam's crib."

"Sam had a crib?" Dean asked, dumbfounded and Bobby rolled his eyes to the ceiling.

"Of course he had a crib, you idjit. He was only six months old when your house burnt down, he had to sleep somewhere."

"It's just… I don't remember this." Dean reached out, brushing his fingers over the wooden bars and Bobby shrugged.

"That's understandable. You had other things on your mind at the time." He waved his hand at the younger man. "Now go fetch me a pair of screwdrivers under the sink."

"I thought you kept your tools in the cellar?" Dean asked, getting up from his crouched position on the floor.

"I do. I'm talking about the drinkable kind." He gestured to the heap on the floor in front of them. "I haven't assembled one of these in over 25 years; I'm going to need some inspiration."

"And then you want something as manly as a Screwdriver?" Dean asked, quirking his brow. Bobby glared at him.

"If I wanted to keep up appearance I'd make you do this on your own, smartass." He nodded to the kitchen. "Orange juice's in the cooler."

/\/\/\/\/\/\

It was almost light outside when Dean placed his baby brother inside the assembled crib and somehow it was with a huge sense of relief and pride that he watched the baby nuzzle into the beddings before settling to sleep with a content sigh. He felt a light tap on his shoulder and turned around to find Bobby standing behind him with a beer in his hand. Dean grabbed it and took two large swigs out of the bottle while Bobby stalked over to the couch and offered Castiel a bottle of his own, which the angel took although looking as if he wasn't quite sure what to do with it.

"So… A Grýla, huh?" Bobby said quietly, wringing off the cap and brining the flask up to his mouth.

"Yup…" Dean answered.

"Thought they were extinct by now."

"Apparently not as extinct as we thought."

There was silence, only temporarily disturbed by the sound of bottles being emptied and beer being swallowed. The beverage was cold, condensation forming over the surface of the glass in Dean's hand and he let out a loud, content sigh, feeling the chilled liquid travel through him to eventually reach and pool in his stomach before bringing the bottle up for a second time. The moment his lips came into contact with the flask there was a familiar prickling sensation in the back of his neck, the delicate hairs there rising up to stand on edge and causing goose bumps to spread all over his body with a shiver. He knew that he shouldn't look, being perfectly and nearly painfully aware of what he would see, but his eyes didn't obey him, his head turning nonetheless and it was a good thing he looked like he had just inhaled a deep gulp of beer from the bottle because the moaning noise he made would never have been disguisable otherwise

Castiel was looking straight at him, just like Dean knew he would, but his eyes were so incredibly dark, pupils blown so wide they resembled the tar-colored eyes of a demon in the dusk, his wings spanning out to cover almost the entire stretch of the sofa with feathers quietly rippling to attention one by one the longer their gazes stayed locked. His mouth was open ever so slightly, fingers gripping hard around the bottle in his hands with whitening fingertips as if it was the only thing still keeping him anchored to the couch. It was with both horror and excitement that Dean realized that so was probably the case. He looked away quickly, feeling the tingle spread throughout his body like wildfire and he turned his back to the sofa, breathing down another mouthful of beer while shoving away all the suggestive substitutes his brain wanted for the bottle between his lips. Instead he concentrated all his willpower on sending the angel a mental slap to the face and an order to quit staring, but for some reason it turned into a silent whimper on the way over. It seemed to do the trick though because Castiel's breath hitched almost unnoticeable and Dean heard the forceful rustle when the black wings folded back in. When Dean turned around Castiel was drinking from his own bottle, glugging down beer in a pace that was almost erotically ridiculous. There should be nothing exciting about watching an Angel of the Lord down alcoholic beverages but right now the only things echoing through Dean's head were the words 'no gag reflexes' quickly followed by 'no need to breathe' and for a minute he wished he had something to steady himself against.

If Bobby noticed the odd way they were behaving he didn't comment or let it show and once the old man had emptied his drink he got up from behind his desk and yawned.

"Well, I'm off to bed." he announced. "There are clean sheets in the closet; you've obviously found the sofa already and the guest room's still down the hall. I'll leave you to fight over who gets which."

Dean simply gave the man a quiet nod as he left the room, pretending that his lack of verbal response was caused by the bottle still pressing against his lips and not the fear of accidentally embarrass himself by sounding like a hormonal teenager when he spoke. Soon after the sounds of footsteps disappearing up the stairs were heard and just like that, they were alone.

Dean wasn't prepared for it; had he been things might have gone differently, but as it turned out he barely had the time to turn his head from the door to the couch before Castiel was right there, cupping his face in his hands and pressing his lips against Dean's with heated passion. Taken by surprise, Dean opened his mouth to protest, but Castiel took advantage of the sudden opening and plunged his tongue into the hunter's mouth with a desperate groan.

The bottle in his hand dropped to the floor with a dull thud as pitch black wings came up and around, enfolding them both and Dean's eyes flew open when they started stroking down the length of his back to his thighs and then up again, electricity sparking through his nerves and sending chills of pleasure up his spine.

"Cas..!" he managed to choke out when the angel drew back for air, but Castiel forcefully shook his head and continued leaving a trail of hurried kisses down his jaw instead, pulling at his clothes and dragging the already open shirt off his arms to leave him in just his t-shirt.

"I'm sorry… I'm sorry… Dean, please, just let me…"

Castiel's hands were pushing him backwards and down until Dean's body toppled back and landed on Bobby's worn out sofa. The angel followed him, pinning him down with his own body weight, puffed up wings flaring out in ecstatic tension and Dean had to bite his lip in order not to cry out when he felt the hardness inside those dark slacks press against the one trapped in his own jeans.

"Cas… I thought you said-…" he tried to make his voice heard but cut himself off with a startled moan when Castiel's hand reached down and grabbed him by the hip, forcefully grinding their bodies together.

"Ah-! I'm fine Cas, there's no f-fever!" Dean was stuttering, having trouble finding the words. He wasn't feeling sick like had before, but he sure as hell wasn't immune to the power Castiel's grace had over him either and he couldn't find the strength in his limbs to push the angel away, wasn't even sure if he wanted to… At the sound of his voice however, Castiel froze above him, chest heaving strenuously and fingers clutching around the exposed ridge of a hipbone.

"You're fine…" Cas breathed against his collarbone, trembling and shaking as if the effort it took to stop what he was doing was painful. "…but I'm not." He sat up slowly, still straddling Dean's hips and started unbuttoning his shirt with one hand, reaching out and grabbing Dean's own with the other, bringing it up and underneath the partially undone, white fabric.

Dean could feel the pounding of Castiel's heart reverb through the length of his arm, bashing against his palm like a sledgehammer and he was so _warm_, like a furnace. Dean stared up at the angel, whose wings now had lowered to drape their bodies like black, velvet curtains, suddenly noticing the feverish glaze that covered those blue eyes, the sweat beading at the temples and the violent shivers fits that shook the angel's frame.

"I'm not…" Castiel repeated, voice ragged and broken and the sound of it, so unfamiliar and so _wrong_, was enough to scare Dean senseless.

"Cas…" He sought eye contact, but Castiel avoided it. Instead he climbed off of him and walked over to the crib where Sam was sleeping still and fisted the railing so hard his knuckles whitened. Cautiously Dean stood up and began moving forward, but then he stopped, not sure if getting closer to Cas right now would be such a fabulous idea.

"Dude…" He hesitated. Castiel was shaking violently now, shoulders drawn tight underneath that bulky trench coat and it was so alien seeing the angel lose control like this, being forced to watch him crumble and fall apart right there in front of him without being able to do anything to stop it. It made Dean feel helpless, _useless_ and he hated it!

"Hey, what's wrong?"

Castiel shot him a guarded glance over his shoulder, but didn't answer; something that aggravated the oldest Winchester beyond words. First the bastard jumps him without warning and now he won't even explain why?!

"Alright, you know what? That's it." He hissed and stomped up to stand on the other side of the crib, glaring at the angel. "Either you tell me what the fuck is going on, or I swear to God I'll beat it out of you right here!"

_And you know I can._ He added inside his head, watching Cas's eyes widen as the thought got automatically transmitted through to his brain.

"Your powers might be gone for the moment, but you're still able to read my mind, asshole; I can't read yours." He continued, keeping his voice balancing on the edge of a whisper in order not to wake his brother up. "And If I'm going to be some kind of grace-kink-donor to you, then you better start letting me in on things. Like for starters -what the hell is wrong with you!"

Castiel's eyes darted up, but then went back down again just as quickly. He released the crib and turned his back towards the hunter, taking a few steps away before he stopped.

"My vess-…" he stared, but then seemed to change his mind. "My body is human." He said slowly.

Dean crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for a continuance. Castiel's posture pleaded, the rigid angle of his shoulder screaming and begging him not to push this any further, but he ignored it, relentless in his silence and eventually the angel released a deep, shuddering breath, feathers quivering and ruffling not from arousal this time, but in something painfully akin to fear.

"I thought the physical reactions would be temporary." He rasped. "That the need would go away once I got to connect with you, but I-… I was wrong."

He looked down onto his hand and the dark wings curled around him like a shield, eyes growing distant as if searching the palms before him for answer to mysteries helplessly invisible to the human eye.

"How do you humans stand it?" he all but whispered, turning around, tortured blue meeting suspicious green. "How do you bare being so close to someone, knowing that you cannot have them?"

Dean swallowed hard, feeling his heart begin to race the longer he held on to that gaze, but then his arms slowly dropped from their perch over his chest as the subtext of Castiel's words began taking form in the back of his head.

"Cas, what are you saying…?"

Feather's trembled and closed tighter around the angel's body, as if they were trying to keep Dean out… or Castiel in.

"I thought I could resist it. That I would not need physical release in order to survive this." Pain flashed over his face, pain and… regret. "But I do, Dean…" It was almost a whimper now, the angel's voice dropping below that of a whisper, pleading, _begging_. "I'm falling apart and I can't take this anymore."

Dean's throat was constricting, making it hard to breathe. What was he saying? Did he mean…? No, he couldn't mean…? Was he _serious?_

"You want me to….?" He trailed of, leaving the rest unsaid and Castiel swallowed hard once more in response.

"But I thought you said-…? You told me that part didn't _apply_ to you, asshole!"

"There was nothing suggesting that it would."

Without thinking Dean stomped around the crib and up to him, leaned in and stared the angel right in the face, lips drawn up in an angry snarl.

"I promised you I'd help you out," he hissed "but I never agreed to become your fucking bitch!"

Castiel turned his face away from the harshness in his voice, pain marring his features.

"That's not what I'm asking." He breathed, but Dean didn't want to hear it.

"You sure?" he snarled. "Because you do realize that you're asking me to get you off, right? And not through some wacky grace transfer, but actually by-… !" he threw his arm out in a vague gesture as if he wasn't even sure himself what he meant. Castiel closed his eyes, breathing deeply and Dean could feel the grace curl and wind inside him, but he was too furious to care about how their close proximity was affecting them, ignoring the desperate plea in the other's voice.

"You know that I would never ask this of you if it wasn't important." The angel urged him, but Dean just snorted, stepping back in disgust.

"How about you learn to jerk off instead, huh? Because I'm sure as hell ain't doing it for you."

"Dean… It's not the same thing."

"I know it isn't, that's kind of the _point_!"

"No, you don't _understand_!"

Without warning Castiel's hands came up and clutched tightly around Dean's head, finger's fisting in his hair and suddenly there was only light. Light, fire, sweet, sweet arousal on the verge of pain and heartbeats so hard they hurt as they rushed the blood through his veins. Dean was burning, he could feel his body turn to ash around him, could feel himself tumble to the ground in spasms and uncontrolled twitches. His entire being ached for touch, for feelings and words whispered against his skin, for closeness and intimacy he had never felt other than in his own inexperienced imagination. It was unbearable, this longing for the something he couldn't identify, but wanted, oh sweet lord he wanted it so badly! He didn't know what it was; just that it was close, pulling at him, dragging him in. It was terrifying, frightening; a whole new world of emotions that he knew he should fear but wanted to belong to so desperately. He reached out, groping, trying to grab hold of it, the _thought_ of it but he missed and fell, down, down, down into the fire and the light and the pleasure and the pain, wonderful, horrible _pain_...!

And then he opened his eyes, finding himself kneeling on the floor with Cas's left hand still tightly pressed against his temple. His head was spinning and he felt as if he was about to vomit, but somehow he managed to keep himself steady, watching the swirling floor settle beneath his hands. He was vaguely aware of the straining ache inside his trousers, but at the moment he wasn't coherent enough to bother himself with the embarrassment. Castiel was breathing heavily in front of him, gulping in greedy breaths of air and bracing himself against the floor with his free hand, shivering uncontrollably. Every single one of his feathers were standing straight out in wild attention, as if they were being pulled by static electricity, violently shaking and filling the room with desperate whispers of need and longing. Dean wanted to look away, knowing very well what the sight of the other's arousal did to him, but he couldn't bring himself to even move.

"My God…" he croaked. "Was that...?"

"Yes…" Castiel fingers swiftly left Dean's forehead, as if the angel had burned himself on his skin.

"For fuck sakes… Always?" Blue eyes met his shocked gaze, filled with remorse.

"Every second."

"My God…" Dean repeated. "How do you even-…"

"Function?" Castiel ended meekly before bowing his head. "I don't. Not anymore."

"And this is because of the grace stuck inside me?"

"Partially…"

"Partially?"

Castiel's wings drew closer once more, in shame and embarrassment and this time he refused to meet with Dean's eyes when he spoke.

"The Grace intensifies it. But… my own feelings make it worse."

"What do you mean your feel-…?"

The sounds of the world went mute as silence lowered itself over them, thick and heavy as realization slowly dawned in his mind. Outside the window the first rays of the morning sun broke through the curtains, making Castiel's ruffled wings shimmer with color that bounced back against the walls and washed them both in showers of iridescent light, but the angel's face remained hidden in shadow, unwilling to even look up from the worn and faded carpet beneath their hands.

Dean didn't know what to do. He didn't know what to say. How could he possibly know? There weren't exactly any walkthroughs for these kind of situations. There were no guides, no articles on how to respond to a clumsily, accidentally forced out profession of… whatever this was from a god damn _angel_! And the way Castiel was hiding from him - because that's what he was doing at the moment, covering his face like an abused animal expecting a beating - it made him cringe from the inside out. Cas obviously couldn't zap himself anywhere, so instead he wrapped himself within the shelter of his own wings, like a child hiding underneath a blanket and it was heartbreaking to witness, but not as much so as it felt to have caused it.

"Cas… I…" but Dean was not allowed to get the words out because Castiel was standing up from the floor, wings still curled tightly around him and eyes staring intently at his own feet.

"I'm sorry." He said, and his voice was hard and defensive, reflecting the strained tension of his jawline. "I should never have assumed that you would consent to this." He turned away, heading for the door, but by now Dean was up as well, fisting his hands in the trench coat's tan sleeve in order to make the other stay, but Castiel shrugged him of violently, as if the touch had burnt him.

"Please, just…" he twitched when Dean's hand rose for the second time, so Dean stopped and vigilantly lowered it back down. There was such pain in the other's eyes, in his face, the way he slouched in the doorway hiding beneath ebony wings, shivering like a leaf in the wind… The sight set off a gut-wrenching pang of pain deep inside him, as if the despair radiating off the angel was in fact his own and he didn't realize that he had tears in his eyes until the lump in his throat made his voice croak and shatter as he tried to speak.

"Cas…" he whispered. "I don't… I-…" Oh God, what could he possibly say? His tongue was like sandpaper against the roof of his mouth, dry and sticky and it didn't obey him, refused to form even the most basic of sounds. His jaw fell open and he shook his head, trying mentally to convey that he simply had no words, nothing to offer in response to this and Castiel's wings dropped impossibly lower when the message made it through the permanent link they now seemed to share. Castiel swallowed, looking down at the hands curled into fists by his sides.

"Please… forget that this ever took place." He mumbled, turning away.

"But your grace," Dean objected, voice hoarse and dull. "It's burning you alive!"

Castiel stopped, one of his hands coming up to grapple around the doorpost, like a man steadying himself on a crutch.

"I will find alternate ways to endure." He rasped.

"But-!"

"Good night, Dean."

And with that the angel left the room, the mourning sound of whispering feathers lingering inside Dean's head, leaving him feeling like someone had just ripped his still beating heart out of his chest.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Dean didn't sleep. When Bobby woke up six hours later he came down to find the Winchester slumping over the kitchen table with an almost completely empty bottle of whiskey in front of him and an equally empty glass clutched in his hand.

Sam was awake in his crib, playing with a large teddy bear. Especially the tartan bowtie beneath the furry chin seemed to fascinate him beyond belief and like everything else even remotely interesting, said bowtie was now being investigated thoroughly in true baby-fashion, which meant that Sam was now trying his hardest to fit the checkered fabric inside his toothless mouth.

Bobby threw a quick glance at the baby to assure himself that the boy wasn't going to choke himself on the stuffed animal before he turned to Dean, taking in the sight of the brooding young man sitting in his kitchen.

"Where's your angel buddy?" he asked, seating himself in the chair opposite to the other male.

"Don't know." Dean grumbled into the glass. "Guest room maybe."

"My, aren't we in a lovely mood today?"

Dean answered him by pouring more of the ember colored liquid into the glass, downing almost half of it in a single swig before he topped it up again and put the flask back down.

Bobby looked at the bottle.

"You know, that one was almost full yesterday." He pointed out.

"Guess I owe you then."

Bobby sighed and leaned over the table.

"What's going on here? I went to bed this morning and everything was fine. Now I wake up to find you've raided my liquor cabinet and Angel Boy is nowhere to be seen? And don't give me that look." He added when Dean glowered at him from over the rim of his glass. "It doesn't exactly take a psychiatrist to figure out that the two of you had a fight."

"It's nothing Bobby."

"Like hell there isn't."

"Oh, I'm sorry; I meant that it's none of your fucking business." Dean sent him one of his politest fuck-off smiles to which Bobby simply glowered back.

"If there's something going on in my house then it is very much my business, boy."

Dean muttered something under his breath, got up from the table and wobbled over to the fridge on unsteady bow legs with an adolescent eye roll to the ceiling.

"There's nothing you can do about it anyway, so just drop it."

He plucked around mindlessly amongst the shelves, but didn't find whatever it was he was looking for and closed the door with a sigh.

"How 'bout you give me a quick recap and we'll see about that." Bobby said daringly.

"No way." Dean leaned against the sink, still glass in hand and a defiant look on his suddenly blushing face. Bobby sighed.

"Dean, c'mon. Don't make me force it out'a ya."

Dean resolutely shook his head, gulping down another mouthful of whiskey.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you." He tried, to which Bobby crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair.

"Try me."

Dean looked at him for a few seconds, contemplating what to do next. Then he sighed heavily, emptied his glass and grimaced.

"We're gonna need more whiskey." He announced.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

"…and that's basically it." Dean ended with a slight slur, trying to ignore the way Bobby was staring at him. His own face was probably looking like a red lantern going by the heat he felt burning on his cheeks, but at least he had managed to keep the threatening hard on in his jeans at bay while retelling his story. Even though he had not gone into details, some of the memories were more than enough to make him want to lean his head back and moan like a two dollar whore, but he kept himself under control, even though his libido was constantly plucking the back of his head for his attention.

On the other side of the table Bobby swallowed hard and grabbed hold of his whiskey, raising it slowly.

"Oh…" he managed, bringing the glass to his mouth with eyes wide as saucers.

Dean frowned.

"That's all you can say? 'Oh'?" he asked indignantly

Bobby shrugged, blinking dumbly.

"Well… there ain't really that much more to it, is there?"

Dean glared at him for a bit, but then he sighed, reaching for his own glass.

"No… I guess there isn't."

They both emptied their drinks and Dean poured them two new ones from the second bottle Bobby had fetched them earlier.

"So…" Bobby chuckled "The little tree topper has a crush on you, huh?"

"Sure seems that way." Dean gruffed into his glass.

"Do you like him back?"

"Bobby!"

"Well, do you?"

Dean shrugged and Bobby gave him a reprimanding stare to which Dean answered by throwing his arms out, failing to meet the stern look with about an inch to the left.

"I don't know, alright! In case you didn't get it, this grace-situation complicates things just a bit."

"Do you at least _care_ for the guy?"

"Well I-… of course I _care_! The dude pulled me out of Hell for Christ's sake…"

"You know that's not what I mean." Bobby frowned, but Dean didn't grant him an answer.

"What difference does it make?" he groaned. "Bottom line is if he and I don't do… the _thing_… we die."

He slumped down into his chair, looking absolutely defeated and Bobby scratched his head through the cap.

"Well…" he said slowly. "From what you've told me, doesn't your body _want_ to do the… _thing_ with him?"

"That's not the point!" Dean snapped and Bobby raised his hands in defense.

"Alright, whatever, but what if we look at this as if it was just another one of those stupid situations you boys tend to end up in – what would you do in order to come out of it alive?"

"That's still not the-…"

"Just answer the question, boy."

Dean gnawed on his bottom lip, pulling small pieces of skin off the chapped flesh, knowing very well what the obvious answer would be, but without knowing how to say it.

"Anything it takes." He muttered eventually, looking down at the floor and Bobby leaned over the table, cupping his glass with both hands.

"Then is having sex with Castiel really such a bad thing? Compared to what Michael wanted you for?"

"I thought we agreed on not using the s-word!" Dean grumbled, trying not to let it show that his tomato red ears were bothering him. "And no, it's not as bad, but it's not exactly great either…"

"Well, since you've apparently already ridden the horse halfway to town…"

"Hey!"

"…I don't see why going all the way should make such a difference?"

"Easy for you to say, you're not the one who's going to have to pull a Brokeback Mountain on the guy…"

Bobby took a final swig of his glass before getting up from the table.

"I'm just saying that's my opinion. I get that it's not going to be easy – hell, I wouldn't want to trade places with you, but… that's all I got, sorry."

He went out into the hallway and put on his jacket, not caring that Dean was glaring daggers at his back.

"I'm heading out for a few hours; I've got a pickup with a busted a-axle that needs fixin'." He nodded towards the couch. "Make sure you get some sleep, you look like shit."

/\/\/\/\/\/\

_Omg, guys, please don't hate me, it's all for the plot, I swear!  
_


	7. Chapter 7

Dean jackknifed up from the sofa with a gasp, sucking air into his lungs like a drowning man breaking through the surface of the ocean. His head immediately responded to the sudden movement by tilting the room upside down for him, a painful reminder of just how much whiskey he had imbibed during the night and his mouth filled with acid, but he swallowed it down quickly, grimacing from the raw burn that clawed down his throat. He shouldn't be up already, he knew this. Something woke him.

Something was wrong.

The muffled sound of a running engine made its way in trough the shut window behind him and when he directed his bloodshot eyes outside he barely managed to catch a glimpse of the back of Bobby's truck as it disappeared down the road.

"No..." he rasped, horrible realization breaking through the veil of alcohol dazing his brain. "No, no, no…! Bobby!"

He shot up from the sofa, ignoring the fact that his stomach made a valiant attempt to throw up, darted out into the hall and tore the door open, sprinting down the front stairs to the porch, but all there was left to see when he reached the driveway was a cloud of rapidly settling dust.

"Son of a _bitch_!"

He yelled and kicked at the ground, momentarily forgetting that he was still barefoot and cursed loudly when his big toe made impact with the very hard rocks scattered across the ground. He stumbled back to the porch, sending one final glare down the road before limping back inside, grasping his pounding head and muttering obscenities from under his breath. Once he made it back to the kitchen he spotted a note lying on the middle of the table and he snatched it up, reading the two sentences that were scribbled across the lined surface in Bobby's handwriting.

'_Gone hunting for a few days. You Idjit's better be alive when I get back."_

Dean turned the note over.

' _PS. Stay out of my bedroom!'_

"Damn it, Bobby…" he crinkled the note in his fist.

So Bobby left them alone. Great, that's just… great…

He groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Fucking perfect.

A soft gurgle was heard from behind him and he turned around, facing Sammy who was standing on wobbly legs inside his crib and gripping the rails with tiny fingers.

"Well, at least you're still here." He muttered sarcastically as he walked over and picked his brother up. Sam gurgled his approval and slapped a hand against Dean's stubbled cheek in something that could have been a sign of endearment or attempted murder.

"Guess it's just the three of us again, huh buddy?" he looked out into the hallway that led to the guestroom. "Or two." He added, feeling a block of ice settle in his gut when the memories of last night came flooding back followed by a rush of guilt that made his chest pull tight around his lungs. It must have shown on his face because Sam looked up at him with big, wondrous eyes, as if he was trying to decipher the change in his brother's features and Dean squirmed, failing to meet that impaling gaze head on.

"Nevermind." he grumbled. "Let's get you some food."

/\/\/\/\/\/\

After Sam had devoured almost half of the canned mush his brother had served him, Dean decided that perhaps it would be a good idea to check in on Cas. He had hoped that the angel would show himself at some point before noon, but so far there had been nothing, so inevitably he was forced to take the matter into his own hands. The short distance down the corridor from the kitchen to the guestroom might as well have been miles long and it felt like forever before he finally reached the door and even longer before his hand made contact with the wood, knocking twice.

"Hey, Cas?" he called out, releasing an annoyed breath from his lungs the moment he realized he was holding it, but there was no answer.

"Cas, you in there?"

He tried the handle but the door didn't budge.

"C'mon, man, unlock the door."

There was still no sound or signs of movement from the other side, so he pounded the door again, and this time there came a soft rustle floating from behind the barrier.

"Go away, Dean."

Castiel's voice sounded tired and weak, but it could also have been a distortion caused by the thick material of the door. At least Dean hoped that was it as he pressed his forehead against the wood, closing his eyes, firmly reminding himself that Castiel was sick and needed to be handled with at least a tiny amount of delicacy.

"I need to talk to you." he called, trying to sound gentle and coaxing but there was no response.

"It's not about earlier." he added, thinking the other was probably still feeling embarrassed about the whole thing; after all, who wouldn't be? "Bobby's left."

Silence.

"Hey, you hear me?" He tried to hold back the aggravation that threatened to leak into his voice, but it was hard. Look at him; he was holding conversation with a door for Christ's sake! This was so _stupid_ and Cas was clearly overreacting! Just the other day Dean had been standing in a motel bathroom, jerking off while barely being able to stop himself from screaming the angel's name to the heavens and he had taken _that_ with a hell of a lot more dignity than Cas took this!

"Cas!" he repeated, perhaps a bit sharper than he had intended.

There was a brief silence before Cas' voice came drifting back from the other side.

"What about Sam?" he asked silently.

"Oh, he's still here. I've fed him." He _really_ tried to make it sound as if he was talking about his brother and not a dog.

The room and hallway fell silent and for a moment Dean seriously contemplated how much trouble he would get if he actually kicked the door in, but in the end he refrained from it. Castiel was not in a talking mood, and quite frankly, Dean was not ready to deal with this right now.

"Alright, you win." He grumbled at the wood. "I'll be out here when you decide you wanna talk."

He tried to send a supportive thought through the door, but he wasn't sure if it came out as a pat on the back or a punch in the face. He then returned to the living room to check up on his brother, who by now had finally mastered the art form of successfully shoving his foot inside his mouth.

"Showoff" Dean muttered as he grabbed a beer from the cooler, but Sam simply shrieked happily around his toes and didn't take any notice of his brother's tone. Dean sighed and threw a final glance into the hallway before he wrung the cap off the bottle in his hand and then downed half of its content in one big swig.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

The day passed slowly. Dean spent most of it dragging through his hangover in front of Bobby's old TV. It could only get three channels, but since Dean wasn't really watching he didn't care.

He occupied himself with fieldstripping and cleaning all of their guns and sharpen their knifes while Sam looked on in fascination from the other side of the crib; a mini-burglar in a mini-cell. Although, Dean had to admit; none of the baddies he had seen in prison had ever tried to drool their way through the bars…

When all guns had been cleaned, knifes had been polished, holy water had been refilled and the crosses, hex bags, charms and amulets were organized and arranged according to category and size on the coffee table Dean fell back against the cushions, looked at the time and groaned. Not even three o'clock.

He got up and made himself a sandwich, which he ate without really tasting it. He tried to play the hide and seek game with Sam like he had seen the angel do last night, but his brother didn't even try to pull the blanket away this time and when Dean took it off for him he was only met with an accusing, blue stare.

Apparently he wasn't as much fun as Castiel had been...

He shot a glance down the hallway, but the door to the guestroom was still closed.

"He's being a baby." he explained to his brother lying on the seat next to him and then added quickly; "No offence".

Sam looked at him, still with the same frown on his face and Dean indignantly threw his hand out.

"So he has a crush on me! No big deal…" he tried to sound unfazed. "It's probably just a temporary thing, some angel-mombo-jombo-side-effect. It'll pass."

Alright, that lie was just pathetic.

He settled back against the couch and sighed heavily. Did angels even have crushes? Like, a crush was something you had on the cute girl in school, not on a full grown demon-hunter with an obvious drinking problem. And if it wasn't a crush, then what the hell was it? It couldn't be love. No, that was preposterous; angels didn't fall in love with humans? Right…?

It would be easier if this was a crush though, because if it was then there would still be a chance that it would pass; that Cas' feelings would go away once this grace-situation was settled, but if it was _love_…

Through the haze of his drunken memory he heard Bobby's question from before come floating back, voice low and words all serious;

_Do you at least _care_ for the guy?_

He closed his eyes and thought about that worn trench coat and the backwards tie, the confused little head tilt and the incomprehensible frown. That soul-searching, blue stare and those full lips, the sound of a hitched breath and a shuddered moan…

Fuck, he couldn't concentrate! It was impossible for him to determine which feelings were his and which ones that were caused by the grace running amok in his body! They were friends for Christ's sake! Friends had no business thinking about each other like that! He sure as hell had never thought about Cas in that way before! He was sure he hadn't…

Oh, how the hell was he supposed to know? He _wasn't gay_; he knew that much and per automatics that had to mean that he couldn't be in love with Castiel either.

As if on cue the thought of Castiel's ragged breaths re-entered his mind and he felt the sparkling tingle at the base of his spine when his lower regions immediately stirred to life. He groaned, tilting his head back and fisted his hands by his side. He needed a distraction; the grace kept hounding him for attention and he knew damn well that if he stayed where he was it wouldn't be long before it eventually got the better of him. He had to occupy himself with something else… like _now_.

Luckily he had a baby close at hand and babies always needed to be taken care of, and once he had fed Baby Sam his lunch and put him down for his afternoon nap, Dean ventured outside, mind set on the task of chopping up some more wood for the fire place. Not that he intended to use it, but because it needed to be done. He also took the opportunity to mow the poor patch of malnourished grass on the front of the house that served as Bobby's lawn and then moved on to get rid of a few rebellious bushes that threatened to colonize the porch. It felt good, working with his body. The sweat glistening on his skin and the way it made his shirt stick to his back almost felt like a cleansing from the past week's chaos. When he was done he was covered from head to toe in sweat and dirt, but with a pleasantly tired feeling in his muscles and it was with evident satisfaction that he went back in and jumped into a steaming shower, relishing in how the hot water and soap washed away the grime from his skin. He stayed in the shower long enough for the water to run cold and the skin on his fingers to furl and when he stepped out to towel himself off he felt like his insides had been rinsed by the water as well as his body, the thoughts of grace, angels and male body parts far away from his mind. That was until his eyes fell on the handprint seared into his left arm and at the sight of the tainted skin his heart dropped to his gut. That scar had been there for so long now he had almost forgotten about it. His eyes usually just slid over it like they did with a piece of furniture that had been in a room for far too long; it was just there, nothing important or significance, just a _thing_. The sight of it now however felt like a punch to the face; guilt winding up around the insides of his chest and _squeezing_, making him feel like shit for ever forgetting about it in the first place.

_Of course I care! The dude pulled me out of Hell for Christ's sake…_

He tore his eyes away, willing the bitter taste in the back of his throat down. He quickly pulled on a pair of torn jeans and a washed out t-shirt, making sure the handprint was securely covered beneath the fabric before he walked out of the bathroom to make his way back downstairs, his hair still standing out in unruly, damp spikes and with a determined clench in his jaw. His foot had barely hit the top step when he heard the silent pads of footsteps coming from below.  
"Cas?" he called, catching a glimpse of dark hair and a white shirt moving through the rails of the stair.

"Cas, wait!"

He hurried down, taking the final three steps in one leap right when the sound of the guestroom door slamming shut reached his ears. When his hand clutched around the handle, the door was already locked from the inside and he barely managed to hold back the frustrated growl that threatened to escape his mouth. He glared at the barrier in his path, letting go of the doorknob and taking a step back, looking around for any signs of what the angel had been doing, but saw nothing and he concluded that Cas had probably just gone out to check in on Sam.

What, he didn't think Dean was capable of tending to his own brother now? Dean had been checking in on Sam regularly during the entire day and everything had been fine every single time! That Castiel suddenly had felt it necessary to monitor the baby himself felt almost insulting. He had it under control, damnit! Didn't Castiel _trust_ him anymore?! The thought made him want to throw a fist to the wall, but he didn't. Instead he stalked back into the living room and flung himself down on the couch with an angry huff, grabbed the remote and flipped on the TV, trying to think of anything but how he wanted to shove the angel up against the nearest wall, yell in his face and then... yeah he really didn't want to think about that right now…

Half an hour later he had to abandon the screen in order to change on his screaming brother, though it wasn't as much a change as it was holding the soiled child over the bath tub and hosing him down before putting on a new diaper, but Dean figured that as long as it got the job done...

He attempted another play session, but Sam wasn't interested so Dean put him back in the crib where the child fell asleep in two seconds flat. Dean returned to the couch, flipping through the three channels in search of something to entertain himself with, but found nothing but different levels of boredom so he settled for the least painful option. Time ticked on, the sun settling slowly outside the window and the shapes of the room began to blur around the edges as is eyelids grew heavier and less than ten minutes later both brothers were sleeping heavily, only differing in the volume of their snoring.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

When Dean's head shot up from the armrest of the couch the last rays of the sun was since long gone and the only light in the living room was coming from the blue tinted glare of the TV. There was hysterical crying originating from the crib and he stumbled to his feet and was by the bed in less than a second, hosting up his brother who apparently was attempting to bring the entire house down with lungpower alone. He tried to shush him, but to no avail. He rocked him in his arms, he rubbed his back and damn it he even tried to _sing_, but Sam only amped up the volume and kept going. There was just no stopping it! He had heard of the term 'scream until your ears bleed' but this was fucking ridiculous!

"C'mon Sammy, shhhh, it's alright, everything's okay…" he whispered hoarsely, not that he knew why – the racket his brother made had probably woken Castiel up already, if the angel was even sleeping.

"Aw man, you're giving me tinnitus here." He groaned. "Shhh…"

"What's the matter with him?"

Dean's gut flipped at the sound of the gruff voice coming from behind him and he swiveled around to find Castiel leaning heavily on his elbow against the doorframe to the living room. His hair and feathers were rumpled, strands of each haphazardly sticking out in an unruly mess and his tie was hanging loosely around his neck with the trench coat and suit jacket nowhere to be seen, looking almost naked in only shirt and trousers. He appeared weary and tired, but his eyes were sharp and attentive as he looked at the child in Dean's arms. Dean was too relieved to see him to even get embarrassed of the sharp pang the sight of him sent through his body.

"I don't know, he just won't stop!" he wailed over the noise.

Castiel walked up to him and placed a hand on Sam's forehead, closing his eyes for a second while he stretched into the child's conscious.

"He's got cramps in his stomach." he said firmly before fixing Dean with a sharp stare. "How many times did you feed him today?"

"Three."

"Did you make him eructate?"

"Did I make him _what_?"

Castiel closed his eyes and let out a sigh so frustrated Dean had to fight his impulse to back away. The angel looked like he was a hair's width away from smiting something, the irritation pulsating against Dean's skin causing the hairs on his arms to stand on end.

"_Burp_, Dean," he clarified impatiently. "Did you make him burp?"

"Uh…. No, I- uh…."

Castiel rolled his eyes and resolutely pried the screaming child away from Dean's arms and placed him against his shoulder, patting the back softly.

"He's swallowed a lot of air. It's disrupting his bowel movements." He said it out loud, but Dean wasn't sure if the words were directed to him or to the room in general.

"I-I didn't know." he stuttered out. "I thought that only happened when they drank milk." Castiel waved his apology away with an annoyed scowl.

"Don't worry, I can tend to him."

He had barely finished the sentence when Sam made a low, grotesque sound at the back of his throat and then without pardon he barfed all over Castiel's raven wings, first once and then twice, the chunky substance covering and running tediously down the large feathers to eventually drip onto the floor in lazy patters.

"Aw, man...!" Dean grimaced.

Castiel's face didn't move a muscle; he simply held out the now silent child for Dean to take away, sucking in a deep, controlled breath when his burden was relieved and flexed his wings with a shudder, like one does ones fingers when they come in contact with something unpleasant.

Dean quickly put Sam back into the crib while Cas snatched a blanket away from the sofa and tried to reach it around to pad at his back.

"Wait, wait, I got it." Dean took away the blanket before it got soiled and firmly led Castiel into the kitchen, closed the two large sliding doors behind them and flipped the lights on over the stove. He grabbed a kitchen towel from a hook by the fridge, rinsed the cloth in hot water and then maneuvered the angel to stand in front of the sink so that his back was facing him and started wiping the large feathers down, making sure his fingers were safely kept separated from the silky wings by the fabric.

The tussled feathers where sticking out in all possible directions, making it hard to decipher which way they were really intended to go underneath the yuck, but eventually Dean managed to figure out a pattern and began aligning them carefully. He could sense the grace call out to him from the short distance between them at the action, but he silenced it roughly.

"You should take better care of these," he grunted, dabbing the damp towel over the soiled plumage. Castiel furrowed his brow at the tone, as if trying to decide whether he had just been scolded or given a helpful suggestion.

"Focus has not been a luxury of mine lately." He shot Dean a quick glance over the shoulder before resolutely fastening his eyes on the tiles above the counter. "Grooming is… consuming." he ended lamely.

Behind him Dean quirked an eyebrow, moving on to clean the soft downs near the base of the wings.

"What, I thought you guys usually just mojoed yourself clean?" he muttered but Castiel shook his head.

"It doesn't work that way. Our wings are not intended to be corporeal… This physical form requires more delicate handling."

Dean nodded in understanding and they fell silent as the hunter submerged himself in the task of cleaning up the mess his brother had made, the minutes slowly ticking by. A lot of the stickiness had gone quite deep into the feathers and Dean had to reach past Castiel more than once to rinse the towel from excess goo. As he did he noticed that the angel was still staring resolutely into the wall, hands balled into fists against the countertop.

"Does it hurt?" he asked, hesitating to resume his ministrations, but Castiel shook his head.

"It's fine, I'm just…" he let the end of the sentence drop with a shaky sigh.

"You want me to stop?"

"No. It's alright."

"I'm almost done." Dean assured him. "Just about half of it left."

It was a bit of an exaggeration really; Dean had been as good as finished for quite some time now, but this was a window of opportunity that he had been waiting for all day and if Castiel thought he still needed to be cleaned, then perhaps Dean could keep him here long enough to talk to him. Fuck, he knew the situation was beyond crazy, with the grace and the feelings and everything, but he didn't want Cas to avoid him because of it. He didn't want the angel to go back into hiding before they had a chance to talk things through. He needed an icebreaker though, because the silence inside the kitchen right now was so tense he could almost taste it on the tip of his tongue.

"You know…" he offered silently. "I could help you do this more often if you'd like?"

Holy shit, did he just say that out loud?

Underneath the towel the powerful muscles stiffened and a few of the top feathers perked up attentively.

"That's a… generous offer."

"Generous?" Dean asked, catching on to the hesitant tone in the others voice.

"Tending to a fellow angel's wings is usually something done between mates only." Castiel mumbled, and Dean could tell by the tone that telling him this information was extremely embarrassing, considering the things Dean now knew about the angel's feelings towards him and what he was already in the process of doing right now – what Castiel was _letting_ him do.

Dean's hand stilled, but didn't come to a complete halt. It simply slid the towel slowly down the long pinion feathers, gently caressing and stroking them, trying to convey the honour he felt of being allowed to do so through the touch.

"So this is actually something… intimate?" he asked quietly.

"Quite so."

"Doesn't it feel strange… having me do this then? You know, after… last night?"

Dean thought asking that question shouldn't have made him so nervous, not after all that they had gone through with these wings already, but he could feel the change in the air compared to earlier– that this was intimate on a whole other level than physical pleasure and he needed to make sure that Castiel was okay with it. He owed him that.

"No." Castiel said after what felt like forever. "It feels… nice."

Dean could sense something deep inside his gut spark at the words and without thinking about it he brought his other hand up to gently skim his fingers across the velvety surface, feeling a light tremor from Castiel as he did so and a thrum of something shooting through him at the touch. The wings seemed to hum in response beneath his fingertips, as in recognition and he could feel his pulse begin to speed up.

"Nice how?" He asked, repeating the motion, unable to stop the teasing tone that snuck itself into the sentence as Castiel's breath hitched.

"Tingly." The angel's voice broke, unable to keep itself steady.

The towel, now done serving its purpose, silently fell to the floor by Dean's feet and having both hands free he reached up and gripped lightly around the outer frame of Castiel's wings, dragging down slowly, watching in fascination how every individual feather he touched snapped up in attention in the wake of his fingers. The gasp that fell from the angel's lips was nothing short of intoxicating, but the sharp sound of it snapped Dean out of the haze and made him realize what he was doing.

Fuck, what was he _doing_?! His eyes widened and he gasped, the panic fighting to break free from the grace that had already begun to wind itself into his system. He had to let go, he had to move away; this was not what he had intended to do; fuck this wasn't what he had planned at all! His feet however stayed firmly planted to the floor and his hands didn't budge; fingers moving gently, coaxing soft trembles out of the body beneath them. Suddenly he could see the way Castiel's white shirt was sticking to his skin in damp patches on the back and the glistening beads of sweat that were pearling at his temples. Castiel was sick, the voice in the back of his head reminded him, but something else; something far older and wiser slipped in-between and corrected it. Castiel was dying. He was _dying_; right here in Bobby's kitchen and the thought made it feel like the floorboards had just opened up beneath Dean's feet and swallowed him whole.

Castiel was _dying_.

The angel shuddered and his voice was stumbling on the edge of a moan when he spoke and the sound of it raged through Dean's body with a flash of pure fire and made him grit his teeth, urges pulling and tearing at his insides.

"Dean," Castiel breathed, "You don't have to-…"

"Be quiet, Cas..." he snapped, the sound of the other's ragged breathing enough to make his composure crumble at the edges and Castiel who had been about to turn around stilled beneath his touch and slowly returned to face the tiled wall once more. Dean closed his eyes, sucking down air into his lungs, trying to calm down. He wanted to turn tail and run, to get away from this surge that was pulling at him like a wild animal, but he couldn't.

_Castiel is dying._

His head was rushing, pulse pounding and he knew that he shouldn't be doing this; he knew that he shouldn't even _want_ to do this, and yet here he was, fingers already combing through feathers and dick swelling inside his pants and he gritted his teeth, trying one last time to make it stop, to gain control and figure out another way to do this, to _help_, but then Castiel moved, only shifting his weight from one foot to the other and that single movement was enough, feathers vibrating against his skin and turning his entire body into a live wire of electricity. The touch of Castiel's feathers against the palm of his hands was sparking with energy, and he could feel the familiar tug on his mind to grip tighter, move faster. There was something about them, something insistent that pulled and beckoned Dean to come closer, to feel, touch and explore, to ravish, claim and never, ever let go. God, the very thought should scare him, even make him feel disgusted with himself for thinking about doing such things to someone he considered to be his friend, a _male_ at that and especially now when the he knew how the other felt about him, but divine aphrodisiac be damned, he just couldn't leave Cas like this! Grace was coiling at his fingertips like an invisible web of static tension, he could feel it trying to access him and he managed to hold it off even if it took a massive amount of self control to keep the pleasant buzz at bay, but he could feel that his control was already slipping. Stepping closer, pulled forth like a magnet, he pushed himself against the flat of Castiel's back, trapping the other against the counter with gentle pressure. His fingers dug deeper into the downs until they reached the very base of the taut muscles underneath and kneaded them, failing to hold back a hitched breath when Castiel let out a startled moan and grappled for the sink with both hands.

The thrill Dean felt at the sound made his entire body flush, his mouth go dry and head to sear, but somehow he managed to keep his hands from trembling and giving his nerves away.

His body had a very strong idea about what they should be doing instead of this lame attempt of seduction, but Dean resolutely banished those urges to the back of his head… at least the more colourful of them. The battle had been lost the moment his skin made contact with Castiel's wings, he realized that, but fuck he had his dignity. That one time against the door of the Impala had been a relief out of proportions, but this was different. This time he couldn't just shove himself into the release and take what he wanted for himself. Cas was sick; he could feel the fever raging his body even through the mass of feathers and he knew very well what was at stake here. He knew what was required and even owed by him, but fuck, did the thought scare him!

He opened his eyes, looking at the male form before him and as he watched he saw a bead of moist slowly roll down the nape of the angel's neck and it shouldn't be possible to get excited by a drop of bodily fluids, but fuck…! His stomach knotted and his knees felt week, just watching the sweat disappear down the edge of that white collar and he willed himself to go slow, knowing that he had to ease into this, the _thought_ of this, first, or he would lose him mind. He had to do this _right_… for both their sakes.

So instead of pulling away and scramble out of the room like his mind wanted him to, he allowed his hands to slowly continue massaging down the limbs, feeling the tension underneath ease with every determined roll of his thumbs and listened to the sound of the breathless moans and gasps his actions pulled out of the angel's mouth. His jeans were tenting painfully tight below his waistline and it took an incredible amount of self-restraint not to simply press himself flush against Castiel's back and unceremoniously begin grinding against his ass. He worked slow, fighting off the grace screaming inside his head to just get on with it and by the time he got to the very base of the wings Castiel was leaning forward against the counter, propping himself up on shaky arms, panting hard with eyes screwed shut and one hand desperately clinging to the tap in the sink so hard the knuckles whitened. His entire body was shivering now, violent tremors running through his frame and wings twitching every time Dean changed the pressure of his fingers from firm and resolved to teasing, quivers wrecking the angel's body and breath catching in his throat.

The sight was mind-blowing.

It was terrifying.

"Cas… spread out your wings for me."

Blue eyes cracked open to look at him questioningly over a trembling shoulder, but Cas did as he was told, slowly spreading out as much as the small room could accommodate until the large appendages were brushing against the walls.

"They're bigger." Dean rasped, spreading his fingers and tracing the length of the wings as far as he could reach.

"I-I grew them out… They f-feel better this-ahh!"

He moaned into the countertop as Dean's hands gripped tighter and caused ripples of pleasure to course through his feathers.

"Fuck, Cas…" Dean breathed, noticing with horror how husky his voice had become.

He leaned forward and pressed his lips against the spot where the wings joined with Castiel's clothing in a seamless line, almost melting together as were they one, silently apologising for what he was about to do, praying that the angel would forgive him. The touch left an electric tingle on his lips and driven by his own curiosity and a force he had no control over he darted out his tongue and licked the same spot slowly. Beneath him Castiel let out a choked cry and arched up towards the touch, wings flipping and back desperately pressing against Dean's body. The sudden friction of the other rubbing against him through his jeans made Dean's knees buckle and he responded by wrapping his arm around Castiel's waistline and shoving him back against the counter, a primal growl making its way up his throat like the low rumble of oncoming thunder.

"Dean…!"

God, the sound of Castiel's wrecked voice went straight to his groin and he could literally feel the restraints of his libido snap one by one as the other began rocking back against him. The collar of Castiel's pristine white shirt was rubbing against his neck and he bit down loosely on the lobe of Cas' left ear and then eased his way down, leaving marks with his teeth and lips that were sure to bruise later, but who the fuck cared about such trivial things? Castiel's breath hitched and when Dean began suckling at a stubbled pulse he made a noise that Dean decided simply shouldn't be legal.

"Dean, _please_…"

Oh, to hell with it!

Tearing himself away with a growl he grasped around Castiel's shoulder and whirled him around, almost forgetting to duck when one of the enormous wings came whooshing towards him. The other successfully managed to knock over basically every single thing that stood on both the kitchen table and the counter, but Dean couldn't care less. Within a second he was back in Cas' personal space, pressing his already swollen lips against the others with a snarl, not caring about the painful clash their teeth made on impact. Cas' mouth opened up willingly, letting Dean's tongue inside without protests or hesitation as he kissed back almost as ferociously as the Winchester, moaning and trying to grapple at Dean's short hair but quickly settled for simply grabbing and holding on to the collar of his washed out t-shirt instead.

Dean brought his hands up and _raked_ through the smaller, soft feathers on the inside of Castiel's wings, the action rendering the angel to go completely limp against the table top, eyes rolling back into his head and violent tremors shooting through his body as the most feral of groans Dean had ever heard clawed itself out of his throat. Dean repeated the action again, and again, and _again_ until Castiel was just a quivering, writhing mess, clawing at his chest with blunt fingernails for something solid to hold on to as he shook and wrenched in front of him.

Dean's hard on was rubbing against Castiel's thigh and he knew that he should feel ashamed of this animalistic display of dry-humping, but he just couldn't bring himself to care, even less stop. Instead he pushed his own thigh forward and in-between Castiel's legs and as he brought it up Castiel gave a loud, startled cry, eyes shooting open to stare into his with something akin to awe. Somewhere deep inside Dean's brain that calm voice reminded him that Castiel, this warrior and ancient servant of God, was still at a complete loss when it came to the subject of relief from human, physical urges and that notion should have made him slow down, perhaps even regain some of the composure he had lost during the last ten minutes, but it didn't. How was he supposed to stop this now? Especially since Castiel had begun to mimic his actions, thrusting against him in earnest, desperate and lost in this new sensation with pupils blown wide and his neck craned back with broken words and syllables spilling from his mouth in a steady stream that could have passed for English if only Dean hadn't known for a fact that it wasn't. His hands where clamped around Dean's shoulders, gripping him like a lifeline but pushing him away at the same time, as if the prospect of getting closer was something terrifying and dangerous, as if Dean's mere breath would be enough to rip him into pieces.

"Dean… oh Dean… please, I- _oh_!"

The way Castiel was losing control in front of him, writhing and squirming in order to get closer, nearer, further… it was enough to make Dean's entire body ache. The fingers digging into his shoulders were twitching and Dean could feel the breath in his throat grow ragged as his own pleasure began to peak.

Growling, he reached down and grabbed hold of the angel's leg, hoisting him up not to sit on the countertop, but enough to close those few eluding inches that separated their groins from one another. Castiel choked on his own breath as their arousals made contact through the rough fabric of their clothes and Dean muffled his own strangled cry by burying his face against the other's arm. He could feel the hard length of the other's cock stroke against his own and when he looked up he could se Castiel's fluffed wings laying splayed out against the counter, twitching, convulsing and shaking in time with the thrusts and that's when the thought of what was actually happening hit him. He turned his head towards Castiel's face, to tell him that they had to stop, to say that this was wrong; that they shouldn't, _mustn't_! He turned to tell him this, to apologise for the whole situation and beg for forgiveness, but the angel (_a god damn angel!_) was looking back at him through eyelids half closed, blue eyes hazed over with pure _need_ and right when he was about to open his mouth the hand on his left shoulder slid down and folded gently over the handprint on his arm. It was as if the world had exploded into a million shards of crystalized light and just like last time, Dean could _feel_ Castiel inside him, around him- every blinding spark of pleasure, every breath-taking rush of blood and the overwhelming knowledge that _it was okay_. There was no uncertainty, no regrets and as if that was the permission he had been unconsciously waiting for Dean's entire body tightened in release and he came almost painfully, spilling inside his trousers with a shout that surely would render him hoarse for hours to come, orgasm wrecking through him like a tidal wave. Grace flowed through them, around them and it burned feverishly in white-hot streams so bright Dean had to close his eyes. He felt Castiel stiffen and arch against him, a single, broken "_yes!_" falling from the angel's mouth before finally pulling Dean close, riding out the high of his orgasm against the hunter's thigh while those bruised lips desperately moved against the nape of Dean's neck, trying to remember how to form words, _any_ words.

Dean had no idea how long they stayed like that, eyes closed, limbs tangled and breath ghosting over skin in the fading light, but suddenly a soft tingle brushed against his neck, making him shudder and when he opened his eyes he saw that Castiel's dark wings had wrapped around them both, like a second pair of arms. One of the smaller feathers on the inside of the left wing was ghosting against his skin and he warily reached up and pinched it gently it between his thumb and index finger, earning a sigh and a soft tremor from the body pressing against him.

"Hey, you okay?" he asked, his voice sounding just as throaty and hoarse as he had guessed it would.

The wings around him rustled softly as they pulled back and folded behind Castiel's back and the look in those blue eyes where still a bit dazed when they darted up to meet with Dean's green ones, but then Castiel blinked and nodded slowly.

"That was… "

"Intense..." Dean ended breathlessly.

"Yes." Castiel stated firmly after a brief moment of contemplation. "'Intense', I believe, is a good word for it."

The corner of Dean's mouth quirked up into a smile at the seriousness in the others voice, earning him a quizzical look from the angel.

"Did I say something amusing?"

"No, not really." Blue eyes narrowed at him and Dean shifted uncomfortably. He realized that he still had his left arm circled around the angel's waist and he abruptly let go, wiping his suddenly sweaty palms on the front of his jeans. Castiel's eyes flickered down to follow them as they dragged over denim and then moved up to rub awkwardly at the human's neck, suspicious slits of blue studying him intently. Dean swallowed; panic slowly kicking to the surface, the uncomfortable wetness in his boxers an undeniable reminder of what they had just done. What _he_ had just done. Oh God, what had he _done_?!

"Ya'know," He snorted out a laugh, cringing on the inside when he heard his voice crack with oncoming hysteria. "If I had known that this would happen I would have bought you dinner first."

Castiel scowled, confused, and Dean knew that the angel had no idea what he was referring to, but he kept rambling, the words spilling from his mouth before he could stop them, sounding more and more panicked and out of control, but he _had_ to talk, he had to say _something_!

"Next time I think we should definitely try to get passed the clothing though." he grimaced, flexing his leg and he could feel the shift in the air when the angel's gaze locked onto his face like a searchlight, but he dared not look up and his mouth just went on.

"I mean, as nice as that was, it's not all that comfortable when your boxers begins to crust."

"Dean…"

"And then of course there's the laundry part," he added with a nervous laugh. "I don't know if Bobby's fixed it, but the last time we had to go into town in order to even-…"

"_Dean_."

Dean's head unwillingly rose to come face to face with Castiel's and the look out of those blue eyes made his throat pull tight.

"Next time?" Castiel's voice was unreadable, but the expression of shocked surprise on his face compensated for that, making Dean's nearing panic die out like a snowflake in hot water.

"Well… don't you want there to be a next time?" he asked, slightly confused.

"Do you?" Castiel asked,

"Well, I…" Dean stammered. "It's not like we have much of a choice, right? Because of the grace, I mean."

"So you don't?" Castiel scowled.

"No!" He blurted out the answer before his mind caught up with him and he closed his eyes, cringing. "I mean yes. No, I mean-…! Fuck, I don't know, alright?"

Castiel's wings sagged behind his back, a shadow falling over his face.

"Fuck, Cas…" Dean groaned, closing his eyes to the sight before him. "This aint exactly easy!" He backed away, dragging frustrated hands through his hair, trying to find the words as he started pacing back and forth in the kitchen. Shards of a broken plate crusted under the heel of his boots, legs a bit wobbly and post-orgasmic aftershocks still working through his system and his brain continued to swim in and out of focus, making the logic behind his thoughts even harder to express.

"I mean, I _want_ there to be a next time," he tried to explain, that hysterical undertone slowly working its way back up his throat, "but I don't know _why_ I want it, you know?" He looked up, searching Castel's features for any trace of guidance, but the angel just regarded him silently, head cocked to the side as usual, eyes squinting, listening.

"I just-… You're my friend, Cas, but you have to understand-…"

"My vessel disturbs you." Castiel cut in, stating facts and Dean threw out his hands.

"Yes! It does, but it doesn't matter because that's not the point."

Castiel's brow furrowed even deeper.

"Then what is?"

Dean moved back to the counter, reaching his hand up, for a moment contemplating to drag his thumb along Castiel's jaw, but ended up resting it on his shoulder instead.

"The _point_…" he brought his other hand up, emphasising the word. "… is that I need to know if you're okay with this." His eyes darted up to Castiel's face, but he couldn't bear meeting with those blue eyes for long, feeling cornered and far too exposed for his own liking. "Because… doing these things to you because of some magic angel mojo when I know how you-…" he inhaled, swallowing hard when his throat threatened to close in on itself "… when I know how you feel about me," he continued, voice hoarse and throaty. "And it's just… I can't, man. Not if it somehow makes you-… I don't want to hurt you."

Castiel's eyes shot to the ground and Dean could feel the muscles draw tight underneath the fabric of the white shirt in his grasp.

"I believe I asked you to forget about that." Castiel rasped out and Dean snorted out a disbelieving laugh.

"Forget about it?" he asked, "How the hell am I supposed to forget about it, Cas? It's not exactly something I can ignore."

The angel looked at him, brow drawn together and his gaze the same all-seeing blue, and then he reached up, gingerly splaying his own fingers against the hunter's jaw, following through with Dean's own failed gesture with serious eyes.

"Dean…my emotions should not be your concern."

"But they _are_!" Dean hissed and his grip around Castiel's shoulder tightened. "Don't you get it? I can't stop this, we both know I can't; but we shouldn't be doing it if it means that I'm hurting you!"

Castiel's finger's twitched lightly against his skin, but didn't move away.

"I would never let you hurt me, Dean. I've told you before, this is _my_ choice."

Dean tugged at Castiel's hand, making him let go of his face and then he backed away shaking his head. Castiel canted his head the other way, looking at him like one would look at a spooked animal, concern and sorrow lining the edges of his eyes.

"I do not wish to force you into anything. You know this." He stated clearly, "And I am well aware of the fact that I in no way resemble the type you normally prefer…."

"Your boobs certainly could be bigger." Dean muttered, but Castiel ignored him.

"I do not want you to feel uneasy in my presence. If you wish it…" he hesitated, as if he was second guessing what he was about to say. "If you wish it, I'll erase all of your memories from the past month the very moment my grace returns." He said eventually and the blue colour in his eyes seemed to crackle when they met with Dean's green ones. "You have my word."

Dean stared at him, the sudden offer feeling far too easy for a solution.

"But… what about you?" he pointed out hesitantly. "Wouldn't you still remember everything?"

"I remember a lot of things, Dean." Castiel said wisely. "Some more pleasant than others."

Dean narrowed his eyes at him.

"Somehow the thought of you remembering us having sex while I don't makes me feel just a tad bit uncomfortable." He pointed out.

"It's a burden I'm willing to carry."

The faint whisper of rustling feathers could have been his imagination playing tricks on him, but somehow Dean wasn't all too certain about that.

"How very generous of you." He grimaced, suddenly aware of the fact that his soiled underwear had begun to dry.

Castiel threw him an apologetic look.

"I'd clean us up, but… I'm afraid my powers are still insufficient. I'm sorry."

"It's not like you caused the mess to begin with, man." Dean looked around the kitchen, from the scattered papers that used to be on the table to the broken plates on the floor.

"Although, it would have been nice to work some magic over this situation."

Cas bent down and began picking with the ceramic shards, but Dean grabbed him by the shoulder and hoisted him up.

"Leave 'em, Cas. Better clean yourself up first."

A faint gurgle abruptly rose from the other side of the door, and it quickly morphed from whimpering little noises into full blown "I've-got-my-baby-bitch-on-and-I-intend-to-use-it"- crying.

Dean sighed heavily and pushed himself off the counter, shaking his head when Castiel looked at him questioningly.

"You hit the shower." He gestured to the doors with his head. "I'll go take care of His Crankyness."

Castiel looked as if he was about to say something, but then his mouth closed and he took a few steps towards the hallway, but slowed and frowned slightly, just a barely noticeable crevasse appearing on his brow before he kept on going. Dean followed Castiel with his eyes as the angel made his way out of the kitchen to go upstairs and judging by the look of his walk it seemed like Dean wasn't the only one dealing with unpleasantly moist clothing at the moment.

He even caught himself snickering when Sam decided to increase the volume enough to pierce through every wall of the entire house and he groaned loudly when the sound cut through into his brain. He walked through the kitchen, stepping over books and broken porcelain and before he opened up the door to the living room he sent a pleading look to the ceiling.

"Please, just don't let it be poop." He begged silently, but the ceiling remained quiet.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

When Castiel emerges from the bathroom half an hour later he is only wearing a towel around his waist. His hair is ruffled and damp and his skin is covered in tiny droplets of water that shimmers when he moves. Dean suppresses the urge he has to fling the other up against the wall and lick those spots dry as they pass each other in the hallway.

Dean showers, relieved to finally get rid of the crusty boxers that had begun to stick to his pubic hair and while he showers, he thinks.

He thinks long and he thinks hard, trying to wrap his head around their situation.

Castiel had feelings for him. For some reason the thought wasn't too alien now that he had some time to get used to it. It all made sense somehow. They way Castiel would always be looking at him when he thought Dean wouldn't notice. The way he always showed up the very second Dean called on him. The countless favours and compromises he had made just to make Dean happy. The _sacrifices_ alone...

He wasn't sure yet if he was comfortable with the thought of having an angelic suitor, but given the situation it was quite clear that it didn't really matter what he was comfortable with…

Dean knew that they were going to have to 'indulge in physical pleasures' again in order to save both of their hides, but Dean Winchester had always been a ladies man and he was torn between what his body told him he wanted and what his brain told him he _should_ be wanting.

The fact that he now knew that Castiel had feelings for him only made it harder – if there hadn't been any feelings involved he would most likely have been able to get himself drunk and fuck the angel senseless if he'd asked him to and then afterwards tell his conscience that it had to be done, that he had no choice, perhaps even allow Castiel to erase his memory like he offered…

But knowing what he knew now… he wouldn't be able to do that, not to Cas. Even if Castiel said that it was okay, how would Dean be able to know that it actually was and that Cas wasn't just doing it to keep Dean alive?

He owed the angel too much. Considering the event that had just taken place downstairs he had already taken enough advantage of him as it was.

It shouldn't be that hard, though. The grace made Dean _want_ to do those things with Castiel, he knew that Castiel's body wanted him to do them as well, but afterwards when the bliss was over and the waves of pleasure had passed and Dean started thinking about what they had done – that's when the panic set in. That not only had he dry humped his best friend and gotten off on it, but also that he wanted to do it again despite the fact that his best friend was a dude!

Dean did his best trying to act as if this sex-thing didn't freak him out, but it did. His sexual preferences had done a complete one-eighty the very moment he laid hands on Castiel's wings in that shabby motel room, and even though his body seemed perfectly fine with it, Dean wasn't!

He was a ladies' man! A Casanova! A mother fucking _stud_!

Now all of a sudden all he could think of was his dick in Castiel's mouth, or the other way around for that matter, of course it made him uncomfortable! At least when he wasn't busy jumping Castiel's bones or grinding him against the nearest solid object he could find…

He felt like an asshole abusing Castiel's trust like that and his conscience always made sure he wouldn't forget it by smacking him hard across the head with a mental frying pan of righteousness every time his thoughts began to stray.

Because it wasn't just about sex anymore. Cas _loved_ him and even though their activities gave the angel happiness now, what would happen when it was over, when Dean was out of grace to give?

How were they ever supposed to just go back to the way things used to be - just friends, hunter and angel? How were they supposed to act towards each other? Even if Dean let Cas erase his memory, make him forget about everything that had happened, what they had done, the bond they had grown - how was that _not_ going to break Castiel's heart?

_How do you stand being so close to someone, knowing you cannot have them?_

Dean sighed.

He knew how feelings worked. This wasn't the first time someone had fallen for him, although, not in such a biblical manner as Cas had, but he knew how things usually went.

He hooks up with some girl during a job, she develops feelings for him and that's about the time when the mission's over and he has to move on. Sure, he's always felt a bit guilty about leaving without giving any of them much of an explanation, but it was for their own good. That was his routine, his personal mantra that he repeated to himself every time he had to break another heart.

Now all of a sudden he couldn't do that.

Castiel wasn't going anywhere and Dean couldn't just leave him behind. Also, Cas was his friend and you didn't just ditch out like that on a friend even if you could. Although… most of the time you didn't shove your tongue down a friend's throat either, but that wasn't the same thing!

And not because girls were corny or sappily romantic or anything, but for some reason a love confession from them hadn't really seemed like a big deal.

A love confession from an angel on the other hand…

He dug the heels of his palm into his eyes, the noise of rushing water drowning out the sound of his own frustrated groan.

Castiel loved him, and the reason Castiel could be sure of that was of course that he had been so for a very long time. Dean on the other hand had just begun accepting the hard on he developed every time his thoughts lingered on the dark haired male for too long. Less than a week ago the thought of Castiel even being able to harbor romantic feelings had never even crossed his mind, even less the thought of Dean possibly returning them.

Love… it was a word Dean hadn't come to terms with yet. For others it meant happiness, safety, a picket fence, a golden retriever and a truckload of kids.

For the Winchesters, love had always been more than that. Dean loved Sam, and he had willingly gone to hell in order to save him. Their father had loved them both and he had given up his life to save Dean's. Their mere existence was filled with sacrifices and duties and the love they shared for each other was the only thing their dysfunctional family could rely on, the only thing they could _trust_. And of course Castiel had become a part of that trust, hell, Dean would charge him with his life any day, but was it the same as the love he would share with lets say a woman? Did he _love_ Castiel? Or did he just want to screw him over? Or rather, did the _grace_ want him to screw him over?

He couldn't even tell the difference! Thinking about that fucked up shit gave him a headache, like 'What did he want and what did the grace want him to want' - it was just confusing!

However, when stripping it down to facts it was clear that Cas had said that he wanted to have sex and Dean, or the grace, _also_ wanted to have sex.

They _had_ to have sex, or at least orgasm together, or else they would die, either from human fever or angel madness, and that just wasn't fair!

For how long would they have to keep this insane game up anyway? How many times would they have to, like, _do it_?

Because really, if Dean was to put urge into action every single time his body got all tingly around Cas they would most likely end up dying from starvation!

And then, of course, there was the ever so recurring issue that Dean preferred not to think about, the subject that he would like to forget had he been given a chance…

Gay sex.

Grinding and thrusting against a guy's knee he could deal with, he'd live, but going all the way, full on and hard core like his sex-infused brain urged him to?

He wasn't even sure about how it worked in detail, even though he had some pretty good ideas, mostly provided by his grace-infected libido and they all contained what he considered to be an unhealthy dose of Castiel's ass. And like with everything else that thought really shouldn't turn him on they way it did. Dean had always had a thing for kinky sex, bring whips and handcuffs and he was game, but with another dude…? He hadn't really ventured that far in his explorations, at least not from what he could remember. There had been many nights spent tangled in musky motel sheets, and he had been drunk more or less every single time, but somehow he felt like he would remember if he had shoved his dick up someone's ass. Or the other way around…

He shuddered and that, right there was just another thing he couldn't wrap his head around; that if he pictured himself having sex with another guy his gut almost made a nauseous flip and he felt like hurling, but as soon as he switched the random guy out with Castiel it was like the hottest thing ever! It was slightly contradicting to say the least! So regular gay sex was a turn off, but gay sex with Cas was not?

It was disturbing how his body reacted to the prospect though… Just thinking about endless hours of sweaty sex tangled in moist sheets with Castiel writhing and moaning beneath him was enough to make his dick perk up hopefully and he slumped together with a sigh.

His righteous side was having trouble trying to reconcile with the thought of screwing the angel _once_, the ease to which his body was already considering doing it multiple times was just unnerving…

There was no use fighting it, he knew that by now, but maybe they could agree not to let their libidos get the better of them any more than they had to? Another hump or two had to be enough, right? They wouldn't have to get naked… Not fully naked at least… Or maybe they should get naked, for the laundry's sake…? They didn't have to do anything; they could just… touch and stuff…

…

Alright, he _had_ to stop thinking about sex now or he would have to spend the rest of his shower in cold water.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Castiel was dressed when he got back down, something Dean's torn mind was not sure if he liked or disapproved of. The angel had dug up an old t-shirt from the bottom of Sam's pack and right now he was drowning in it, a pair of worn and torn jeans only visible from the knee and down beneath the red fabric. Dean realized with a rush of possessive heat bordering to pride that the angel was wearing _his_ jeans and he almost made a comment on how that, too, was also something done between mates only, but he could see the way Castiel's eyes widened and grew darker at the sight of him in just a towel and he quickly made sure to get out of sight and get dressed instead. He didn't have the energy for a second round so soon, despite what his libido was trying to convince him of.

He was tired, he had not had a full night's sleep in ages and he just wanted to crash into bed before anything else got in the way. Apparently it showed because when he returned to the living room Cas had added a proper pillow and a duvet to the sofa.

"You need sleep." The angel stated simply and Dean began to reach out to give the other a pat on the shoulder and say thanks but stopped himself midway and sent an apologetic look towards the angel.

"Sorry. It's just that… suddenly it seemed like a very good idea to, uh, throw you down and grind you into the couch..." He smiled awkwardly and added when he heard the sharp intake of breath that came from the male next to him. "But I don't think I have the stamina it would take to stay awake for that."

Castiel closed his eyes and a soft tremor sent his wings rattling with failed suppressed excitement.

"The thought occurred to me as well, actually." He breathed, but if he was referring to the former or latter remained unsaid.

Dean laughed tiredly and rubbed the heels of his palms against his eyes.

"Aw, man…We are in so much trouble aren't we?"

Castiel swallowed hard.

"The recuperation period is indeed much shorter than I anticipated." He furrowed his brow for a moment and then there was a soft pressure against Dean's skull, like a headache. It only lasted for a few seconds and then it was gone just as quickly.

"Interesting…" he mumbled.

"What? Something wrong?"

"Your mind is silent." The angel canted his head, face unreadable. "I can't hear your thoughts anymore."

"Well excuse me for not getting sentimental." Dean quipped with an eye roll. "Nice to know that you're not being listened in on anymore."

"I never intended to listen in on you." Castiel objected.

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Dean shot him a quick smile before he resolutely fastened his gaze upon the coffee table in front of him and cleared his throat.

"Uh, you better go now…" he suggested hoarsely "otherwise this will get messy very quickly." Castiel nodded, heat rising to his cheeks.

"Agreed." he mumbled, nodding once before he stalked out of the room with hurried steps.

"And lock the door!" Dean called out after him, ignoring the way his body ached when he heard the metallic scraping of a key turning in response.


	8. Chapter 8

Castiel leaned back heavily against the door while trying to still his viciously beating heart, the key clutched so tightly in his grasp that the metal cut in to leave deep marks on his skin. He could still feel the lingering heat of Dean's eyes on his neck, and he reached up and rubbed the skin there harshly with hands clammy from sweat that still felt too foreign on his skin. His pulse was racing, pumping blood through his body with such vigor he could hear it swirl in his veins and below his waist an already aching erection was straining against the material of Dean's fringed jeans.

For a few swooning seconds he thought he was going to faint, but somehow he managed to push himself off the door and stumble over to the unmade bed where he collapsed onto his back amongst tangled sheets with a groan and the deft rustle of feathers, closing his eyes. That thing he had said about the recuperation time being short had obviously been an understatement. Right now he felt as if he was going to combust into flames at any moment, his oversized clothes still being too tight, the room too small and his blood too feverishly hot.

This human body had always been restricting, but during these past few days his vessel had gone from being a mere inconvenience to a downright curse; his own personal hell of heated flesh and sizzling urges, complete with Dean Winchester as his oblivious jailer… at least he had been oblivious up until last night.

Castiel knew that keeping himself close to the oldest Winchester was more of a masochistic behavior than anything else on his part and that it was a habit that had gotten in the way of his objective position as a guardian and soldier, but the Righteous Man wielded a power over him that Castiel simply could not deny, even less keep away from. Being in the same room as Dean provided him equally with as much bliss as it did pain, but it was a pain he had never wanted to be without, not even last night when Dean had been made aware of the feelings he harbored for him. The mortification had threatened to consume him, to render him nothing but a tainted presence in Dean's life before Dean himself had taken that final leap less than an hour ago and sent him hurling into a brand new plane of existence, this maddening, pulsating dimension where everything was breath and skin and touch and _Dean_. The memory of the hunter's hands on his wings, that soft tongue sliding against his own… He shuddered violently and his hand shot down to clasp around his thigh, trying to quench the pleasurable spasm wrecking through his limbs.

Dean had touched him, the thought alone was almost enough to make him delirious. Dean's fingers roaming his body…

_Spread out your wings for me…_

"Dean…" he whispered the name and his wings flared out eagerly against the mattress in response to his charge's name. "Dean…"

He remembered the feeling of Dean's arousal rubbing against his own through harsh layers of clothing, remembered the pooling heat that had coiled in his stomach and then coated the inside of his pants in a climax that had felt so raw it could easily have torn him to pieces .

Castiel opened his eyes and peered down the length of his body, halting at the denim clad bulge that stood proudly in his way and he licked his lips, staring at the phenomenon as if he really saw it for the first time, and perhaps that's just what he did. He had experienced erections several times since he obtained control of Jimmy Novak's body and it had been confusing at first, but not intriguing in any other way. Of course he had understood the why's and how's of the occasions, that was not what had caught him by surprise about it. The surprise had come that these physical reactions seemed to be obsessively connected with Dean Winchester, which of course had been ridiculous. He was an angel; a warrior and messenger of Heaven and the Host itself. He did not _want_. He had no conception of _desires_ or _lust_.

It was of course different now. _Now_, as he lay here in this bed, he knew what it meant, not only because of the Grace calling out to him from inside the human form on the other side of these fragile walls, but because he knew what Dean had come to mean to him, the effects his presence had on not only his physical form, but his celestial manifestation as well. The feel of Dean's hands on his wings; it had felt _right_, as if Dean's physical touch was equal to any other angelic grace in the whole of Heaven. Dean… not Dean the Righteous Man that he had been ordered to protect, but Dean, the Human Castiel had come to love. Dean… Dean whose hands had brought him such pleasures, who had held him close and caressed him not like a friend, but a beloved, as if Castiel had been something precious…

He licked his lips again, his hand twitching against his leg before slowly sliding upwards, fingertips reaching out and rubbing tentatively against the bulge hidden underneath the ragged texture of his clothes. His breath hitched as the same electricity from before sparked through him and he palmed down the front of his trousers in a single, harsh motion, his eyes fluttering close and a moan wrenching itself from his throat.

Castiel had never touched himself before. Not because it was a sin of any kind, not because he hadn't had the time, but because he simply hadn't been able to comprehend why he _should_. Of course he knew how it was done –he wasn't stupid - but he had never before experienced orgasm first hand, he had never understood the connection between a hardened muscle and the phenomenon that so many humans referred to as 'heavenly', because really, what concept did a human have of Heaven? Tonight Dean had showed him just how wrong he had been, what he had been missing out on and it had proven to be far too much, for far too long and like this, afterwards on his own, also over far too soon.

His other hand was already fumbling with his belt and zipper, grabbing hold of the hem and canting his hips to pull the jeans and boxers off. When the cool air hit his naked skin he let out and involuntary hiss, because even though the room had felt abundantly warm just a few seconds ago, the heat of his flesh now rendered it chilly in comparison.

He licked his lips and cracked his eyes open, looking down at the protruding member and his wings quivered silently in anticipation. It was bigger than he had imagined it would be. Obviously he knew that the male organ grew in size from arousal, but nonetheless he had not expected such a dramatic change. He gripped the base of his erection gingerly and stroked the skin with trembling fingers, forcing himself to keep his breath steady. Slowly he moved his hand up and down the length, fingers sliding delicately over velvety skin and feeling a thin layer of sweat forming on his brow as he did so. He pushed his hips into the touch and his left wing strained to flip beneath him in response, but not succeeding. It was uncomfortable, his wings pinned beneath the weight of his body and he reluctantly released the grip around his cock and sat up, tugging the t-shirt over his head before settling down once more and propping one of the large pillows up behind his neck as a second thought to give more space for the spanning appendages against the headboard. Keeping his wings from moving earlier, out there in the kitchen had been hard, like balancing on the edge of a cliff he so desperately wanted to jump off from, but he didn't want to hurt Dean by accident so he had endured, perhaps even finding the voluntary restraint to be surprisingly exciting… Distantly he wondered what it would have felt like if Dean had grabbed hold of his wings and pushed them against the counter, trapping them there as they-… Once more the wings behind his back trembled, feathers spreading wide and tilting up to show the exquisite pattern of smaller feathers on the inside. There was more room for them to move this time and his breath hitched when the subconscious desire to expose himself for mating kicked into gear.

Like any other human, Dean had no information about the rituals involved for angel mating, which in contrary to the name had nothing to do with physical touches or orgasms like it had for humans. It was a spiritual act, two graces reaching out to touch and blend, to allow the proximity to ones very essence and even though Dean had no grace, Cas had to admit that the purity of his soul had managed to come surprisingly close. Castiel had felt that blinding light reach out and move against his grace like fire, but even though every single part of him had yearned for it, Castiel had not reciprocated the touch. Even though there would be an obvious lack of secondary grace, the mating would be none the less permanent. It wouldn't change much for Dean of course, he was not an angel and would perhaps only be able to perceive a minor part of the effects, but Cas would be inevitably tied to Dean's soul for the remains of his existence. He wanted nothing else of course, he would endure an eternity in hell without a seconds delay for that single bliss, but the decision was not his alone to make. He wondered though, what it would feel like. Having Dean's soul mix with his, to reach out and curl his grace around him and hold, give, _love_, knowing that he was allowed to… He shuddered and the feather's behind him rustled as his entire body twitched with a jolt of excitement. Oh, yes, Dean… _Dean_…

When he gripped himself for the second time it was with increased confidence and the strokes that followed moved faster, dragging the skin further down the shaft and putting tension to the frenulum beneath the head. He watched in fascination through half lidded eyes as he pulled the pleasure out of his skin, biting down on his lower lip when he found that a minimal twist of his wrist on the upstroke spiked the sensation even higher.

His mind was drifting off again, imagining that the free hand that moved over his torso wasn't his own and that the soft glide of feathers along the upper part of his thighs came from another, warmer body hovering above him. He could see green eyes look down on him and a pair of full lips curl into a lewd grin as they began placing fluttering kisses all over his body…

_Dean…_

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Dean was out like a light the moment his head hit the pillow. His body was exhausted, greeting sleep like a long lost friend and he sank into the velvety darkness with a grateful sigh, welcoming it with open arms. It was a dreamless sleep, at first, but it didn't take long before the darkness around him started shifting, slowly taking on shapes and colors that morphed in and out of focus, sometimes near and sometimes seemingly miles away in the horizon-less distance. It was like watching oil swirl, if oil had been air, tranquil and soothing in its silence and Dean felt peace settle around him like a big, fluffy blanket. This was a good place, a _safe_ place and perhaps that was the reason to why he didn't flinch or startle when somewhere from the dark he heard someone breathe out his name.

The voice was familiar, the sound of it comforting like a friendly hand to the shoulder. He knew that voice, but even though he raked his head in search for its owner he came out blank. It didn't bother him though. The voice made him feel safe and warm, protected and loved and inside his chest there was a sudden ache to meet the person who was calling him, as if his heart would curl into itself and disappear into a void if he was denied it for a second longer.

_Dean…_

A shudder travelled through him at the sound. Such a needy, desperate sound.

_Dean…_

There was a gush of breath running along his body and when he looked down he discovered that he was naked, though instead of embarrassment and shame over this new state of appearance he felt anticipation coil in the pit of his stomach. This was a good. This was how it was supposed to be.

The dark around him began swirling and shifting, a soft glow scattering the shadows and moving towards him in a fleeting pattern that whirled over the oil colored floor like the roots of an enormous tree come to life. He looked at it calmly, regarded it with a sort of numb fascination and watched the golden white mist move closer and slide against him tenderly, almost lovingly. The touch of it made him gasp out loudly in surprise, both cold and warmth pulsing against his skin at the same time and sending a delightful shiver through his limbs. The light curled around his legs and then proceeded to snake its way to his hips and hug the chest snuggly until his entire body was tangled within the glowing embrace.

He knew that normally this would make him frightened, but for some reason he wasn't. This was right, just like the fact that he was naked was right. This thing, whatever it was, was safe and not out to harm him. This was good, like his body responding to the sensation of being caught like this by quickening his pulse and sending blood to his lower regions was good, like the way his dick was already standing tall against his abdomen and begging to be touched was undoubtedly _good_.

He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, sighing when what could have been fingertips caressed his jawline and then continued down his neck and collarbone. It felt nice and he moaned silently, shuddering when the fleeting sensation traveled down his ribs and settled on his hip bone, kneading the skin there with comforting reassurance.

When he felt invisible hands grip his swollen erection his eyes rolled back into his head and he gave a strangled moan, fisting his hands in the light that wrapped across his chest, finding it to be firm and solid beneath his fingers. He shuddered and twitched when the stroking began, rough and without any other lubrication than the precome already pearling at the tip of his member. He tried to move his legs, to spread them out to gain some leverage, but they didn't budge – he was trapped like this, splayed out in the mercy of this force that circled him – and to his surprise the realization sent off a dazzling spark of ecstasy in his gut.

_Dean…!_

The voice whispered the name against his skin and his cock twitched eagerly in response, forcing Dean to bite his lip in order not to whimper. He knew he shouldn't be enjoying it, that being held captive by some mystic light in an unknown place was something wrong, but at the same time he could only come up with reasons to why it was so _right_.

He tilted his head and spontaneously pressed his lips against the mist that curved along his face and let out a startled yelp when the light flared up like a bonfire around him, piercing him with heat that made his head sear with pleasure and his entire body to lock up in near orgasm, but without that final edge that would grant him release. He had no idea what it was, he ad absolutely no clue, but when the light faded and went back to the low pulsating glow from before he already had his tongue out, licking a long, wet stripe over the glistening apparition and _sweet mother of mercy_…!

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Castiel was panting hard, pressing his head back into the pillows while his fist pumped around his dick in quick, hurried strokes. Sweat was misting over his body and his free hand was altering between raking roughly over his skin and cupping his sack with wary fingers. He could feel the same pleasure from before pool in his gut, but he wasn't there yet; the edge he was chasing constantly keeping itself out of his reach. It was harder than he had expected; without Dean present it was as if he was being held back by something and the strain was slowly driving him mad. He twisted his head, moaning quietly into the fabric of the pillow while his hair clung to his forehead in sweat licked strands. His wings quivered, stretching out and pulling back in euphotic convulsions, filling the room with the dry sound of moving silk. Dean's name kept rolling off his tongue like a litany, the syllable sending sparks of heat throughout his body like a drug, pushing him close to pure delirium. He could imagine feeling the other's body move against him, feeling the slow writhing of their limbs as his brain kept painting him vivid pictures of the things Dean's mind had been pleading him to do during the near week that had passed. He could see it clearly, the hunter's eyes as they glazed over, full lips parting breathlessly in moans and pants as their arousals slid against one another's, rutting frantically like they had against that counter and the memory of Dean's breath against his skin made his jaw go slack with ecstasy. Dean.. oh Dean, oh Dean…!

"Dean…!" he choked on the name and seconds later his entire body arched up from the bed, sweet fire coursing through his veins and filling his head with light, making him cry out in surprise and feverish pleasure. The sensation quickly pulled away and he fell back against the pillows, sliding down to lay flat on his back once more while panting harshly, but just as he was convinced that what he had felt was his orgasm the feeling returned with a force that made him thrash helplessly from side to side in blindsided euphoria, rendering him mute. When he came down he was struggling desperately to suck air back into his lungs in between panicked gasps, but he did not get much time before a third wave hit him, followed by a fourth, and a fifth and then again and again and _again_. Both his hands clawed at the sheets by his sides, nails digging into thin fabric and twisting it hard, yet still it felt as if something was stroking and caressing every inch of his naked skin with such delicate precision it made him ache all over and it didn't stop, not even falter, but it wasn't enough, never ever enough…

"Please…!" he choked out, struggling to regain control of his voice between the shocks, fighting to be heard by something, anything, but the blows just kept coming, kept crashing down on top of him like a flood and he was babbling inconsistencies, head tossing, wings locked in seizure beyond the point of shaking and his whole existence caught in this insane loop of pleasure that was slowly killing him and it still wasn't _enough_!.

"Please… Oh please, oh please, oh please, oh _please_…!"

He was so close he could taste it in the back of his throat and feel every nerve in his body sing when wave after wave rolled over him, making his hips thrust helplessly against nothing but air and he wasn't even aware of what he was saying anymore, sobs and broken moans cascading off his tongue. He was close, oh so close and he just wanted to throw himself over the edge, to feel the fire wash over him and oh sweet heavens he was _burning_!

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Dean was raking his hands through every winding stream of light he could reach, not caring that the blaze his actions provoked was slowly tearing him apart from the inside out with a bliss that was bordering to pain, because it simply felt too damn good for him to stop! His lips pressed open mouthed, sloppy kisses into the swirling mist, daringly sucking pieces of the entity into his mouth and letting his tongue swirl around it in wet swipes before releasing it once more. He had no idea how he could possibly know, but he _knew_ that what he was doing felt good to this mysterious whatever it was, and he rewarded every intoxicating drag over his cock with another kiss, lick or caress until he was no longer able to open his eyes anymore from the lights flaring around him. His breath was ragged and raw in his throat, loud moans ripping from his lungs without any restraints what so ever and he could tell that he wouldn't last much longer, but he refused to let go, not yet, there was something he needed first, something he had to know...

"Hey…" he breathed, tossing his head back when the light raked across his nipples, sending scorching electricity through his system. "Ah! W-wait! Who are you?" His hands grasped around the ray winding down between his legs in an attempt to still the motion over his member, but to no avail.

"Tell m-me… I-I want to kno-oh!"

There was no use, his nails were digging harshly into the light and he could feel the end approach in a heartbreaking speed. He couldn't stop, there was no way he would be able to hold this off.

"T-tell me!" he whimpered, fingers twitching in his struggle to keep the orgasm at bay for just a little while longer. "Please…!"

_Please…!_

Dean's eyes flashed open and his heart skipped a thousand beats in his chest, because all of a sudden he could _hear_ it.

_Oh please… Oh please, oh please, oh please, oh _please_…!_

"Cas…?"

_Dean, please!_

Dean's head fell back with a groan and both his hands came up to fist themselves in the mist around his chest and his entire body jerked viciously.

Cas. Of course it was Cas, how could he have missed it? Of course it was Cas… He moaned, hips stuttering and it felt so good and he couldn't- no he didn't even want to stop, freaky angel-shit be damned.

"Cas…" he moaned, fingers digging in harder and he found himself wishing that the angel could feel it. "Oh fuck, Cas, I'm coming... I'm coming, I'm-… C-cas..!"

His toes curled, body spasming violently in its restrains as the orgasm burst out of his cock in thick, heavy spurts that stained white on the ground at his feet and as his cry filled the air he could feel the light around him surge and flare, pulsating, shuddering and he knew what was about to happen. Without thinking he turned his head to the side and pressed his lips eagerly against the radiating light, flattening his tongue against and dragging along the length of it, not caring how the spiking sensation almost made his face go numb and feeling a victorious thrill in his chest at the effect it had when scorching whiteness flared on the other side of his closed eyelids.

_Come for me… _he sent the breathless thought into the blindness, biting down possessively with his teeth. _C'mon Cas, you righteous bastard, give it to me…!_

/\/\/\/\/\/\

The sheets ripped in his fists when Castiel came, his body feeling as if it was about to curl into itself but instead it arched high, dark wings spreading wide in shock and wanton while white semen splattered across his stomach and chest, some of it dripping down in thick droplets on the black feathers below. His mouth hung open in an ear shattering scream, but there was no sound coming out except for a strangled whimper and when he went limp and fell back down against the mattress he didn't even have the strength to fight the violent throws his body made in the aftershock. His head was numbed, his eyes unseeing and he was sure that his heart was going to come shooting out of his ribcage at any second because oh, just _oh_!

A distant sound reached his ears; a low, wheezing noise that somehow seemed to be connected with the pulse pounding in his head and it took him a few moments to realize that the sound was coming from _him_. His breath dragged up and down his throat in raspy groans, his body too strung out to even move and even his wings were draping over the sides of the bed like black sheets, wrecked by occasional twitches and shudders and the only thing his mushed brain could process was the euphoric "oh" that kept repeating itself over and over inside his head.

That-… _that_ had _not_ been normal!

He tried to push himself up into sitting position, but his limbs wouldn't obey him, so instead of swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and stand he simply slid down to the floor in a boneless heap, clinging to the bedside table in order to keep himself from collapsing when his head began to whirl, still mouthing the same weak 'oh'.

Suddenly there was a light tap on the door and the angel's entire body jerked back into attention.

"Cas?"

"Dean?" Castiel's voice cracked slightly, but if it was because of surprise or embarrassment he couldn't tell.

"You alright in there?" Dean's voice sounded hoarse and tired; had Castiel's moans woken him up?

"Yes…" he swallowed hard, trying to moisture his dry throat, but without succeeding. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, I… uh… I was sort of… dreaming?"

Castiel's brow furrowed. Was it just him or did Dean sound a little out of breath?

Then…

"Oh…" his eyes widened and he clasped around the wood of the bedside table even harder. "_Oh…_!"

"Yeah…" Castiel swore he could hear the Winchester's awkward neck scratching through the door. "You could say that."

He scrambled to his feet, legs almost buckling underneath him as he looked around for something to clean himself up with. After a quick wipe off using his previously discarded shirt he pulled his trousers back up and buttoned them before unlocking the door, coming face to face with Dean who was leaning against the wall outside. Cas opened his mouth to say something, to perhaps by some miracle come up with a single word that would be able to channelize both his abashment, guilt and remorse before Dean decided to lash out at him, but when he saw the hunter's face every thought of apologizing got blown out of his mind.

"Why are you laughing?" he scowled, perhaps sounding a bit more snappish than he had intended to. Because Dean was _smiling_ at him, a big, smug grin that Castiel had not been expecting and for some reason the sight of it made him want to slam the door back in the other's face before he got the chance to say anything.

"Dude..." Dean quirked an eyebrow at him. "Were you jerking off in there?"

Castiel felt his cheeks heat up against his will, but he couldn't stop it, his usual angelic discipline suddenly uncharacteristically unwilling to help. It was ridiculous - after all the things they had gone through within the past twenty-four hours, doing something this common in their current situation was hardly anything he should feel embarrassed about! Dean however seemed to be of a different opinion.

"Holy shit, you were!" Dean's head fell back and he laughed loudly, not taking any heed to the angel's flustered state.

"I take it you find that amusing." Castiel didn't want to sound sullen, but he knew he did, blushing like a school girl as he stood half naked in the doorway with wings still partially puffed from fading arousal and growing indignation.

"Are you kidding me? You're an _angel_! You're supposed to be all _holy_ and _chaste_ and all that other hands above the covers-kinda stuff." Dean made a weak gesture to the angel's body and then he laughed again, lacking words.

"You still host that perception even after what transpired in the kitchen earlier?" Castiel retorted dryly without thinking, and for a horrified moment he expected the smile to fall from Dean's face, like it always did when the subject of _them_ surfaced, but it never happened. Instead Dean simply looked at him, as if he knew a secret that the angel didn't and then slowly brought a hand up to rub it against Cas' naked chest.

Castiel's breath hitched and he found that keeping his eyelids from fluttering shut and instead locking his gaze onto Dean's was probably one of the hardest things he had done in eons. Dean was still smiling, although it wasn't mocking anymore. It was soft, warm. It made Cas' toes tingle.

"I've taken advantage of you two times in less than two hours…" he mumbled. "I guess I should tell you how I'm sorry about that, but I'm not… Not really."

Fingertips slid gently over his torso, tracing the raised circle of scarred skin covering it and Cas shivered despite his best efforts to keep still. Dean's eyes flickered to his face and then went back to studying the way his fingers left small goose bumps in their wake over the human flesh.

"Normally I would be," he confessed, "but since not even locked doors can keep this from happening… then what's the point of being sorry?"

"Dean," Castiel had to clench his teeth in order not to have the name come out as a moan. "I didn't know that you were affected from-…"

"I know." Dean cut him off. Green eyes glistened at him, broad shoulders rising and falling in a shrug. "And I couldn't stop myself either, it just… happened. Like it always does when I-…"

The weight of Dean's hand disappeared from Castiel's chest with a groan and Cas almost found himself falling forward in it's absence, not realizing how much he had leant in to the touch to begin with.

"The things you make me want to do…" He snapped his head up at the sudden shiver in Dean's voice and he almost winced in spite of himself. The smile was gone from Dean's lips now and the glistening that Castiel had thought of as mirthful gleaming was even more prominent now, looking horrifyingly much like something else, but he didn't get a long look of the hunter's face because he turned it away the next second, sighing heavily.

"I don't know what's happening to me, Cas." The words were low and throaty. "I don't even know which part of this is me anymore."

"What do you mean?" Castiel kept his voice low, holding it steady. Something was wrong; the situation was growing increasingly confusing and Dean's mood was changing far too quickly for this to be just nerves. Gingerly he extended the reach of his mind to brush against Dean's and was met with a stirring wall of panic, doubt and fear that almost had him staggering backwards. So much _fear_… His entire body immediately itched to reach out and place a comforting hand against the other's shoulder, to quench this inferno that was burning black streaks through Dean's consciousness, but he wasn't sure of how such an act would be received at the moment, so he left both limbs hanging loosely by his sides with uselessly clenched fists.

"I never meant to cause you any harm." He said instead, choosing his words with great caution, carefully treading this new, unfamiliar territory, but the snap of harsh words he was expecting in response never came because instead Dean laughed at him once more, only this time it was a dry laugh, filled to the brim with self loathing and threateningly balancing on the tip of hysteria. The hunter's shoulders were tense, posture hostile and Castiel found himself unconsciously bracing his body for a fight. Dean shook his head, hands fisting by his sides and he felt so _wrong_, Cas could barely stand the look of him.

"That's the thing." Dean chuckled, voice cracking. "You haven't." One of the hands uncurled and came up to rub at the neck harshly, as if trying to work out a strained muscle. "For the first time in ages I think that I'm actually feeling good. _Happy_ even."

Castiel looked at him in silence, feeling his stomach knot and furl inside him in a notion that was far more human than anything he ever felt before when Dean still refused to meet his gaze.

_If you are happy, then how come you look nothing like it…_

Dean pushed off the wall and Castiel allowed the hunter to push past him through the doorway and enter the guest room. A sharp pang of humiliation sizzled through his chest when the man then bent over and picked up the soiled shirt from the floor, analyzing it with eyes Castiel couldn't see.

"Damn it, Castiel…" the sound of choked back tears reverbing through the silent room cut through him like a knife. "What the hell are you doing to me…?"

"Dean," he soothed, taking a step forward, hand finally reaching up in comfort. "I told you before, It's only my grace-"

"No it's _not_!"

Dean hurled the stained garment against the opposite wall with a snarl and turned around, swatting the angel's hand away so hard it made Castiel stumble. His eyes were glazed with tears and they were staring into his with such aggravated fury it made Castiel's heart skip.

"For fuck sake's, don't you _get it_!?" 

Castiel intended to nod, he really did, but instead he felt his head move from left to right, slowly back and forth in the same confusion he knew was evident on his face.

And just like that Dean was right there, chest pushing into his and Castiel didn't even have time to think before chapped lips pressed against his mouth, harsh and desperate while both of Dean's hands came up to grasp around his biceps, holding him in place. The kiss didn't last long but when Dean pulled away it left Castiel's breath ragged and his knees wobbly. Dean pressed his forehead against the angel's, his right hand releasing the grip on the naked arm to fold over the back of his neck instead.

"You have the power and knowledge of the entire freaking universe stuck inside that thick skull of yours, but _this_ you can't figure out?" he asked through clenched teeth, frustration and a helplessness that could have thrown even a demon off track pouring into his voice.

"You are not making it very clear…" Castiel admitted quietly.

"Shut up." Dean hissed and then he was kissing him again, but not as hard this time - something Castiel's bruised lips were very thankful for – and he complied to the hunter's request, kissing back obediently and allowed Dean's teeth to nip at his lower lip and his tongue to slip in between the seam of his mouth in eager thrusts, but he could sense that something wasn't right. There was a tension in Dean's muscles and the grip of his fingers was hard and forceful, as if he thought Castiel was going to run away should he let him go. It was an uneasy feeling, a mix between the euphoria of having Dean kissing him and the question to why he was doing so, and for a moment Castiel wished that the barrier that separated Dean's thoughts from his hadn't been resurrected quite so soon. A particularly sharp nip from Dean's mouth made him gasp and bring his attention back to what was happening and when Dean pulled back for air Castiel resolutely brought his hands up to push against his chest, holding him still.

"You are acting very strange." He pointed out, eyes falling to the ground. He could not bare the sight of Dean's face right now; he did not want to see the pain he knew he would find there. He could feel the chest beneath his hands rumble when Dean let out a dark chuckle.

"Define strange." he joked.

"Something's bothering you."

"It's nothing." Dean tried to lean in again, but Castiel moved away, sending his feet a reprimanding look.

"I want to know, Dean."

"Well I'm not sharing." He dove in for a second try but this time Castiel stepped back completely, breaking the physical contact, something that had Dean rolling his eyes to the ceiling in aggravation.

"Damn it, Cas! Can't we just _do this_ already?!"

Castiel looked up at the outburst, narrowing his eyes at him, taking in the aggression, frustration, the panic still skirting the edges of green eyes. He gingerly reached out with his mind, feeling the familiar walls of Dean's psyche rise up to meet him in an attempt to keep him out, but by now he had learned every crack and crevasse in Dean's defenses and slipped through without much delay. He could feel Dean's furious glare on him when the hunter tried to shove him back out, his psyche thrashing and bucking to make him loose his grip, but Castiel simply tightened it in response.

"Get the fuck out of my head, Cas!"

Castiel ignored him, pushing on, further, deeper and the closer he got to the center, the harder it got to keep his hold. It was like trying to grip ice, the thoughts that had been so warm to him before suddenly turned cold and hard around him and Dean was doing his very best to crush him beneath the weight of it all and that's when he saw it. His eyes blew wide, his jaw went slack and his breath caught in his throat.

"I said _get out_!"

Hands shoved against his chest so hard they knocked the air out of him, making him stumble back and hit the wall by the door with a loud clatter from the picture frames hanging above him and the impact snapped him back into his own mind so quickly his head lolled back from the sheer force of it.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean yelled, hands shooting up to clutch around his own head and teeth bearing in a snarl from the sudden pain that followed the second presence's abrupt departure. Castiel stared at him, dumbstruck, grappling for a solid place, somewhere firm to ground himself as his own thoughts caught up with that he had just witnessed. He could barely find the words.

It had been like pushing through to the center of an emotional tornado, but there, in the eye of the storm it had been so _quiet_ and Castiel had _seen_… Dean's head had been screaming at him, not like it had when the grace was fighting for a way out, feeding him with lust and desires, no, this had been different, so very, very different… He understood now, finally, and it was like seeing the first glimpse of the horizon when the mist scattered before the morning sun.

Dean's sexual orientation had never been questioned, not even by himself. The times he had found himself straying a bit too far from what would be considered normal thoughts about a person of the same sex he had efficiently brushed it off with a few more drinks and carnal indulgences with whatever female company he preferred at the moment. Castiel's Grace had shoved Dean head first into a world of homoerotic actions that Dean had refused to even consider lingering on even in his own head and he had clung to reason as if were it a life raft, telling himself that it would all go away soon, that he could wait it out, that none of it was real, that none of it was _him_.

Then it had begun, that first reluctant compromise that now had led them to this point where Dean was suddenly experiencing urges and cravings he had never realized he had. Because they were not just a product of the grace running wild in his body, even though he had tried so hard to convince himself otherwise ever since that night at the motel and Castiel could see it now, he could _understand_. Those feelings had always been there, safely tucked away deep inside excuses and denial and of course Dean's own definition of straight and gay, cornered between the cracked and battered wall that was his father's military discipline and the crowd of social acceptance. Dean didn't care about what people thought of him, he never had, but there were other opinions he considered to be even more valuable than his own. Like his brother's. Like Bobby's.

Like Cas'.

And Dean knew this; he knew and had known for quite some time, deep, deep down, but refused to admit it in fear of all the possible things it would come to mean, the things it would _change_ not just for him but for the important people in his life. He _wanted_ Castiel; wanted him so much his heart ached… and it scared him senseless.

The dream Castiel's grace had provoked had left Dean in shock, stunned and confused by the way his subconscious had not only accepted Castiel's unknowing advances, but how it had _embraced_ them, eager and hungry, like he had been starving for the angel's spiritual touch for decades. Detached from his physical body, the decision to reciprocate to Castiel's touch had indisputably been Dean's own and Dean knew it, had realized it the moment he had woken up with Castiel's climax clawing a second orgasm from his body, the already soiled sheets on the sofa serving as a blunt confirmation to how intensely the dream itself had effected him. Dean's emotions was in turmoil, howling in unison like a pack of wolfs, all eager to be fed, and it was in Castiel's humble opinion a mere wonder that the man was still standing upright.

Castiel watched, still wide eyed, as Dean buried his face in his hands and groaned silently, almost like the wince of a wounded animal.

"Why did you have to do that…" he murmured into his palms. "Why did you…? Damn it, Cas!"

Castiel didn't have an answer. Not one easily explained anyway. Instead he just stood there and watched as the man in front of him shed invisible tears of anger and humiliation hidden behind the safety of calloused hands, allowing him this refuge, this fragile mask for as long as Dean desired it, shoulders rigid and defensive, body shaking and shivering as if wrecked by cold or fever. The hunter was out of his protective shell, his defenses slowly falling apart and there was nothing Castiel could do to ease the pain he knew the other must feel at this moment. All he had was words and he was well aware of how lacking in conviction they were compared to the words of Sam or Bobby, he knew that they were nothing like the voices of his own brothers who had once rendered entire nations pliant and willing at the feet of God with a single uttered word. He knew that there was absolutely nothing he could say to make this better.

It didn't stop him from trying though.

"I've told you before…" He shifted closer, slowly pushing off the wall and taking a step towards the other male. "The boundaries between sexes are man-made. It's a concept woven by human hands that does not hold any other purpose but to oppress that which the world has chosen to be abnormal. Whatever mortification you are experiencing at this is only a human-"

"Well in case you haven't noticed, I _am_ human." Dean spat, interrupting the angel's attempt to comfort. Castiel closed his eyes, straining to keep his own emotions under control when the onslaught of Dean's rage washed over him in thick waves. Their mental bond had been broken, but that didn't mean that they weren't affected by each other's emotions still, and right now Dean's temper was doing its best to stir up some sort of aggression within Castiel's own consciousness and he knew why. Fighting had always been Dean's way of venting, to let it all out and now his subconscious was trying to provide him with such an outlet by going after Castiel, but Cas was not intending to let it succeed. Instead he took a deep breath, pushing the boiling red sensation away with a firm hand and concentrated on looking Dean straight in the eye as he spoke.

"I have noticed." He answered slowly. "But it doesn't change the facts."

"What facts?" Dean snarled. "The _fact_ that your grace is running amok inside my head? Screwing with my thoughts?" He threw his hand out, gesturing up and down Castiel's still half naked frame. "I'm not supposed to be attracted to _you_!" he snapped. "I'm supposed to like blondes with long hair, big tits and mini skirts! God, I-… I can't even watch _porn_ anymore!"

Castiel's blinked, but then his head tilted slowly to the side when another realization took form inside his head.

"You think that indulging in coitus with me will stop the grace from searing, thusly giving you your attraction to females back." He concluded dryly and Dean gaped back at him.

"Well, I-… It's not like I-…" the man's spluttered objections didn't need further explanation and Castiel sighed.

"My grace will continue to beckon for you until I am healed. And I am sorry to tell you that the uncertainty you're experiencing about your sexual orientation has no connection to my welfare."

"How the hell can you be so sure?" Dean snorted and Castiel answered him with a look that made him pinch his lips tight. Cas had been inside his head, of course he could be sure.

"You are not behaving like this because you're unwilling to have sex with me," Castiel said firmly, continuing before Dean had a chance to interrupt him; "You're behaving like this because it's more intimate than that, and it scares you."

"What the hell does that even mean, 'intimate'?" Dean condescended. "You do a hit and run in my head and all of a sudden you know all there is to know about me?!"

"I _do_ know you, Dean." Castiel answered with a glare. "And _you_ know that sex for you is not the same as intimacy."

"Of course it is, what else would it be?" Dean huffed.

"Sex is your refuge." Castiel stated bluntly. "It's your sanctum. It's were you go to feel safe; not to expose yourself."

Dean crossed his arms over his chest with an offended snort and turned his eyes away, but not quick enough for Cas to miss out on the uncertain flicker directed to the floor showing in them before he did so.

"Wow, just lay it on me there Dr. Phil." He muttered under his breath. Castiel ignored him.

"You are having doubts about your sexual preferences; I understand that it must be very confusing for you, but intercourse will not make the doubts go away."

Dean snorted, still staring intently at the wall above the headboard of the bed.

"Well, I'm willing to take whatever chances I can get."

Castiel sucked in breath through his teeth, feeling his chest draw tight like a hamstring around his lungs.

"Does it really repulse you that much?" The hurt in his own voice was something he had not intended to be heard, but it seemed to take the oldest Winchester off guard as he snapped his eyes away from the wall to look at him, confused.

"Do you find your feelings towards me so unappealing…" he said, voice low and scarred with blue eyes fighting to stay steady locked on Dean's green ones, "that you'd rather defile your self respect in such a manner at the prospect of never having to feel this way for me again?"

His wings droped behind his back, pulling close to his body and even though he hated the instinctive reaction he couldn't stop it. His initial happiness to find that Dean had feelings towards him had been abruptly ripped away by this new information, by the fact that Dean didn't _want_ to feel that way and he could no longer face him, could no longer bear the sight of those eyes where he had placed his faith, his loyalty and the hopes of his affections. The rejection hurt, an actual physical pain cutting its way slowly from his chest and out through the rest of his body and for a few horrible moments he desperately wished that he had never found out about it at all. Ignorance is bliss, and he'd rather live forever hoping for Dean's affections than spend another second in the shadow of his rejection.

Dean was still watching him, his eyes slowly tracing over the lines of his face; he could feel it like a physical touch on his skin and he closed his eyes, fighting off the shudder that wanted to course through him, because no, Dean's touch would never be the same, not now, not _ever_ and the thought made him want to blow out every single window across the span of the continent.

"No."

Castiel's eyes shot open at the sound of Dean's voice, a mere whisper in the silent room, but still fully capable of making his heart stop. He turned his head, forcing his eyes up to level with Dean's and if there was an electric tingle sparking through him, making his wings twitch when their gazes met then that was a complete coincidence. The hunter's eyes were marred with feelings, _all_ feelings, but there was something in there, covered by the pain and the fear that made his dying hope give a feeble kick to the surface once more. Dean sighed, his body swaying as if he was dying to take a step forward, but held himself back.

"No," he repeated. "I don't find it… _repulsive_… It's just… It's all new, you know? I'm not having doubts about anything, I mean you saw that for yourself just now, right?"

Castiel's brow furrowed.

"Then why all this anxiety?" he asked, forcing his voice above that of a mumble.

Dean threw out his hands.

"What difference does it make?" he groaned, but Castiel didn't buy it.

"It makes all the difference. Dean, I want to help you, I do, but forcing yourself into physical proximity with me will not solve anything. The point-"

"The _point,_" Dean interrupted with an eye roll, "is that in a few hours we'll be at it again and we both know what will happen then. It's too strong, Cas, we won't be able to fight it. It's easier this way, I can take it."

"No." Castiel shook his head and turned his back to the hunter, but Dean didn't give up.

"C'mon. So we fuck and if nothing changes then you'll be a little closer to fully charged, plus you get to say 'I told you so'." The corner of Dean's mouth quirked into a hollow smile. "I won't even bitch about it." He said and Castiel's hands fisted silently by his sides.

Always trying to shrug it of with a joke… It was so typically Dean it made his insides ache.

"Dean..."

"I'm being serious!"

Midnight wings whooshed as the angel turned back around, eyes hard and dark feathers spanning out behind him.

"So am I!" he growled, suddenly furious. "You are indecisive and confused; we should not even be having this conversation!"

"Would you stop being such a god damn pussy about this!?" Dean's anger showered over him like blistering rain, and Castiel gritted his teeth against the onslaught. "If you don't want to sleep with me then how come you're the one who fucking dream-raped me just minutes ago!"

"I did not intend to do _anything_ to you!" he hissed, slits of blue gleaming dangerously. "And you know that what you're suggesting is not only a repulsive act in itself but also an unworthy accusation and I _do not_ approve of it." He added, with just a hint of a threat in his voice and Dean crossed his arms over his chest, sending him a defensive look. "Besides, " Cas added, that low growl slipping back into his voice, "it is impossible to rape the willing."

Dean's eyes grew instantly cold and his shoulders went rigid, squaring defensively.

"Not cool, Cas." He gritted out, but Castiel didn't care.

"Call it what you like." He grated out and Dean nodded, gnawing on his bottom lip. Castiel made a very valiant effort not to stare at it.

"So that's the game you're going to play, huh? Acting all high and mighty?" Dean gestured to him. "What about when your grace decides it doesn't want to wait for us to just 'happen' anymore? You're just going to let it kill us both because of some stupid, romantic principle?"

"If I have to." He knew that was not true, but Dean looked at him as if he was nuts.

"You're out of your god damn head!"

"Perhaps."

Dean glowered at him and Castiel glowered right back.

The tension was thick in the air, anger and hurt filling up the space between them, but they could both feel the other, more carnal urge that lay beneath. It was building up again, the bond between soul and grace and it was tugging at them like a wild animal on a chain. The sizzle in the air screamed for physical contact and right now that urge could just as well manifest itself in a fistfight as in the passionate entwining of bodies.

Castiel meant every word of what he said. If Dean was hesitant to his motives of performing intercourse with him, then Castiel would not let him sacrifice his self-respect over something that Castiel had initially caused, knowing or not. Dean had given up enough to cover a thousand life times; asking the man to do something like this against his will was not a fair thing to do. He just hoped that when it all came tumbling down he would have the strength to resist for both their sakes…

"I'm not letting you do this, Dean." He said firmly. "Not until you are sure that it is something you truly want."

Dean responded by once again rolling his eyes.

"When are you going to get it?" he sighed. "There_ is_ no choice! So I'm not sure about _why_ I want to do this, but in the long run that doesn't matter!"

"It matters to me." Castiel deadpanned.

"Oh yeah? Why?"

"How would it make you feel if you knew you were having sex with someone who didn't really want to have sex with _you_?"

Castiel's words hit him like a brick to the face and Dean's jaw shut with an audible click of teeth and the angel narrowed his eyes at him.

"You hadn't even thought about that, had you?" he asked and when Dean's mouth opened and closed again Castiel sighed loudly and without realizing it rolled his eyes to the ceiling, mirroring Dean's movement from just a moment ago.

"Sometimes the obvious lack of velocity in your brain amazes me." He muttered.

"Don't get quirky with me, feathers." Dean grumbled, but when Castiel only continued to glare he threw out his hands and sighed heavily, defeated.

"Alright fine, whatever. I give up, you win." When Castiel only gave him a raised brow in return he continued: "If you want us to go on some crazy sex-strike, then fine, I'm just saying that I don't think it'll work."

"It must work." Castiel argued silently and Dean's shoulder slouched, loosing their hostility.

"Cas, c'mon… I mean, there are some pretty rough rules to this situation of ours, we can't just ignore that."

Castiel's gaze lowered to the floor, contemplating the words for a few seconds.

"Perhaps…" he agreed, glancing up to meet Dean's doubtful gaze, " but since when have we ever cared about rules?

Dean blinked, staring at him in caught off guard surprise, and then slowly, slowly a grin began creeping over his lips and Cas found his own lips drawing wider in response if ever so subtly when the suffocating energy that had been soaking the roam slid away and dissolved between them.

"So we're doing this then?" Dean asked and Castiel nodded once.

"Until you've made up your mind, yes." He narrowed his eyes towards the Winchester. "And may I suggest that you refrain from trying to deceive me on the subject. You know I will find out about the truth anyway."

Dean gnawed on his bottom lip, looking as if he was trying to work out a plan to how to prevent that particular event from happening, but the look from the angel's eyes made him straighten up and abandon that line of though as if he had ben caught doing something rude.

"Yeah, I kinda figured that part out already." He sighed and scratched his neck, glancing around the room in a long, elusive swipe before settling his gaze on Castiel, for the first time since he had entered the room without that insane shimmer in his eyes, their color now the familiar green Castiel could watch without feeling like he's suffocating from the pain inside. Dean looked at him, gaze slowly dropping to slide over the naked skin of Castiel's chest and shuddered.

"This is going to be a bitch, you know that right?" he winced quietly, but the only response he got was a faint quirk of lips followed by a soothing brush of Castiel's conscious against his own before the angel turned around and walked out of the room without a word.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

_Cas is going ancient Greece on your ass Dean, I hope you're prepared for the consequences! ;)_


	9. Chapter 9

The next morning, Dean woke up to the intoxicating smell of breakfast winding through the air accompanied by the mute banging of pots and pans that drifted through the closed doors to the kitchen.

He got up from the sofa and stretched, yawning widely before he padded over to the doors and pushed them open, revealing the sight of Castiel who just flipped a pancake down on top of an already impressive stack that had been placed on the kitchen table along with a plate of bacon and eggs; sunny side up just like Dean liked them. The angel was once again wearing his dark slacks, but he had managed to get his hands on a baby blue, short sleeved, button-up shirt which Dean could only guess originated from Bobby's closet judging by the size of it. Given, it wasn't the tent that Sam's shirt had been, but it was still obviously too big for the slender frame of Jimmy Novak's former body, even when held in place by Bobby's old apron, the grease stained encouragement to "kiss the cook" sending an appreciative jolt down the hunter's spine.

However, for the first time in days, Dean's attention was not exclusively directed towards Castiel...

"Wow, Cas, you opening up a diner or something?" Dean marveled at the abundant amount of food towering in front of him.

"No diner, just breakfast." The angel responded solemnly and placed a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice next to the single plate laid out on the table. Sam was sitting in an old high chair on the short end, carefully placed out of reach of both the tablecloth as well as the tableware residing on it. However, the smear of blueberry jam and pancake dough on his cheeks proved that he had already managed to get his hands on some breakfast of his own.

"Eat." Castiel ordered and gestured for Dean to sit down, to which Dean happily obliged and dragged in the pleasant smell of pancakes and maple syrup through his nose, his stomach vigorously reminding him that he hadn't eaten properly for almost two days.

"I didn't know you were such a bad ass in the kitchen." He jabbed, digging his fork into the top layer of the stack and threw a bunch of the drenched flapjacks onto his plate. The golden hue of the syrup dripped down onto his plate as he brought up his fork to place the first bite of his breakfast into his mouth and as his lips sealed around the silverware he had to close his eyes and hold back an obscene groan because, lord have mercy, this must be the most delicious fucking thing he ever ate!

"Jimmy was an excellent cook." Castiel answered matter-of-factly, seemingly unaware of the fact that Dean was currently in the middle of a mind blowing foodgasm. "When he became my vessel a few of his memories were passed on to me, including the knowledge he had in the culinary arts. They are a bit vague, but I think I've managed to grasp the concept." The angel finished the sentence by nonchalantly flipping another pancake in the air and catching it in the frying pan.

"Show off." Dean grumbled around his food, more or less inhaling it rather than chewing it, thusly not arguing with the other's statement.

"You're going to get ill if you eat too fast." Castiel pointed out, but immediately contradicted himself by dumping the new pancake on top of the ones already residing on Dean's plate.

"Hey, don't talk to me about food," Dean pointed his fork at him like a lecturing finger. "If there's one thing I know it's how to eat."

"Of course." Castiel answered and the only thing that gave his impassive demeanor away was the amused rustle of feathers that sounded when Dean proceeded stuffing his face with another load from the steaming plate. Dean would have chuckled if doing so wouldn't make him choke on his food.

"So, what's with the luxury treatment?" he asked instead, washing down the mouthful with a gulp of orange juice. "If I didn't know any better I'd say that you're trying to seduce me here." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively over the edge of his glass, but Castiel only gave him a look that told him to stop being so full of himself.

"We really should stay clear of any topic that implies sexual interest for the time being." He cautioned. "Even though you feel unaffected by my grace at the moment things will not be so easy once the urges set in."

"Yeah, I know." Dean sighed, rolling a pancake around the bend of his fork. "Sorry."

The angel nodded and turned back to the stove, plucking with the now empty bowl of pancake mix.

"My advice is that you find something to occupy yourself with in order to keep your mind off such thoughts. I believe that the auto-shop out back would be a good place for you to reside during the day."

Dean nodded in agreement. He always zoned out when he worked on motors; it would without a doubt help him not to think about the angel inside the house. He looked up at Castiel who had put the frying pan aside and was now rummaging through the pantry in the hunt of something that he, judging from the frown on his face, obviously had trouble finding and that's when the realization hit.

"That's what this cooking frenzy of yours is all about?" he asked in disbelief. "To keep your mind off me?"

Castiel shut the pantry door and turned towards him, jaws defensively set and it was clear that he didn't like that Dean had figured him out that quickly. Their eyes made contact and Dean's stomach knotted viciously when those glistening blue orbs locked onto his. It only lasted for a split second and then Castiel turned away, fisting his hands against the countertop, the ridge of his wings suddenly looking a lot less smoother than when Dean had first walked into the kitchen and when Dean's gaze fell on the hands balled against the sink his thoughts immediately went back to the last time they had been in this room together, when the slightest touch of his hands had made Castiel come undone before his very eyes and he unconsciously let out a silent groan. At the sound Castiel's breath hitched and his wings twitched when a spasm travelled through the feathers, making them flutter violently.

"Dean…" the angel fastened his eyes on a spot somewhere between his fisted hands. "I think you should go outside."

"Yeah…" Dean agreed, swallowing hard around the sudden lump in his throat. "That's probably a good idea…"

He got up and started walking towards the door that led past the angel and out into the corridor, but after only two steps Castiel's harsh voice made him stop dead in his tracks.

"The other way!" He barked and Dean held up his hands in defense, palms facing forward.

"It's okay, man. I'm not going to jump you." The words were reassuring, but somewhere deep inside he wasn't really sure if he believed them himself. Neither did the angel is seemed, because Castiel just shook his head, the faintest of disbelieving snickers making its way to Dean's ears.

"Trust me, Dean…" and for a moment Dean forgot how to breathe when a pair of predatorily blue eyes settled on him over a shirt clad shoulder. "_Your_ actions are not the ones I'm worried about."

Dean's heart was skipping a million beats inside his chest, lungs collapsing from the pressure of Castiel's eyes, feeling like a mouse being sized up by a lion, but then Castiel drew a shaky breath and turned his eyes to the countertop once more.

"Other way, Dean."

Dean was halfway through the living room before Castiel had even finished his sentence.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

The rusty old Ford had a busted cylinder block and the oil definitely needed changing, but otherwise there wasn't much wrong with it… except for being a Ford that was...

Dean didn't like Fords; the gearboxes always broke down, the wiring was a complete nightmare, the rust basically thrived on the suckers and in Dean's opinion they were also downright _ugly_. Except for the '69 Mustang Mach 1, those were hot. Impractical as hell, but still nice…

Bobby however, obviously couldn't live without the damn things, this resulting in a yard that consisted fifty percent of them and the rest being a jumbled mess of other brands like Chevys, Audis and Rovers. It always meant that there were plenty of spare parts lying around though, so in that case Dean couldn't complain.

It had been three hours since Castiel had chased him out of the house and he had been working on this car ever since to the point where he began wondering why Bobby even bothered with keeping the crappy piece of junk with all the problems it had. The problems were gone now of course, even if they had bee n a real pain in the ass to solve and he had to admit that they had successfully managed to keep his mind occupied and away from more colorful ideas involving feathers and sweat-drenched skin, and so far everything was going according to plan.

To be completely honest he hadn't felt any major reactions to such thoughts ever since he got away from Castiel's immediate presence and he absently wondered if this precaution was really necessary, but then he remembered Castiel's eyes… Those eyes had not belonged to someone longing for being touched and ravished. No, they had been the eyes of someone who wanted nothing more but to grab and _claim_. In that short moment Dean had been given a glimpse of the warrior and in every sense lethal creature that was Castiel and the sight had made his heart jump and blood to run feverishly hot through his veins. Just that short, heart stopping flicker.

There was no doubt that the lack of physical contact was harder for the angel to withstand than it was for Dean, most probably because no matter how weak, Castiel still inhabited more grace than Dean's fragile human body could ever hope to handle and as Dean's celestial supplies had grown sparser with every shuddered climax and gut-wrenching orgasm, so had his overwhelming fever and fits of tachycardia. Right now, Dean's reactions to Castiel were powerful and overwhelming yes, but they still felt normal - to the point that this entire situation of theirs could be called normal – and the heat that spread through his body at the sight of the angel was more and more appearing to be solely generated by his own body.

And that's where things got scary for real.

Because even though the urges caused by the celestial power were fading, Dean was obviously still attracted to Castiel, so if the grace wasn't causing it… then…

He kicked the tire and straightened up with a groan. He knew what it meant, of course he did. After the little chat he and Castiel had gone through the night before, how could he not? He just wasn't sure if he was ready to accept it yet. It wasn't that he was gay, because guys didn't appeal to him like girls did, but when it came to Castiel… somehow that stuff didn't seem to matter. So the guy had a dick, and stubble and an impossibly dark voice… how was all of that supposed to be a problem when his dick obviously thought they were the sexiest things since lace panties? He was attracted to Castiel, to Cas and he knew this, but the problem wasn't the _knowing_; it was _admitting_. Saying it out loud, putting it in words and come clean to himself, to push the doubts aside and for once allow himself to let go, to feel happy without having guilt smashing down on him afterwards like a twelve storey building. Only of course; he didn't dare to… Because if he did all that and accepted his feelings it meant that Castiel would become something more than he already was. Something valuable he could lose, that could be stolen away from him like so many others had and that would also mean that if Cas were to be ripped out of his hands he would lose something that was more than a just another friend and Dean wasn't sure if would be able to handle that. Of course, Castiel had already been lost to him once, when Lucifer had finger-snapped him into a splattered mess of blood and raw meat on that field all those months ago, but then he had returned before Dean in his grief over Sam even had the chance to fully grasp the fact that he was gone, barely been given time to mourn the loss of the two most important people of his life before the angel had been there by his side once more, fingertips to his forehead and swallowing him up in a sea of cerulean blue.

If he were to face such a loss again…

He glanced up at the house and sighed.

The reasons to why he had fallen for Cas were abundant, he could list hundreds of reasons to why the angel had become such an important part of his existence, but for the life of him he couldn't understand what could have _possibly_ invoked such feelings about him within Castiel himself. Normally angels looked at humans with condescendence and loathing, but here we had Castiel who instead of smiting the human who continuously insulted him whenever he got the chance, decided to fall in love with him instead! He sighed heavily and leaned back against the car frame.

"Always the rebel, huh Cas?" he mumbled, picking up the opened bottle of beer that had been standing on the roof of the car and took a swig out of it before bending down over the open hood once more, determined to get that damn cylinder block replaced before lunch.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Castiel called him in about two hours later and once more ordered him to sit down by the table to eat. Dean couldn't help but notice the obvious way the angel was _not_ looking at him during the entire time he spent inside the house and even though Dean tried to engage in conversation with him Castiel's answers were monotone and often single syllabled. Taking the hint he finished lunch quickly – Cas' food was delicious so eating was not an issue there – and went back outside while still chewing on his last mouthful.

The day passed an evening came, both engine checked and oiled switched on the Ford out back and Dean came waltzing back to the front porch at about eight o'clock, covered in grease and oil stains but undeniably satisfied with his day's work. He opened the door and walked inside, calling out to Castiel in the process so that the angel would know that he was back, inhaling in the breathtaking scent of food that filled the air.

"Damn Cas, that smells good! I'm practically starving, what's for din-…"

He cut himself short the moment he stepped inside the kitchen, completely taken aback by the surreal vision that sprung before his eyes.

The entire kitchen – every horizontal surface, every single square feet with the exception of a few patches on the floor were filled with pots, saucepans, kettles, baking sheets, baking tins and platters brimming with food. It all looked and smelled like heaven and for a moment Dean wondered if he had fallen asleep inside the hood of the Ford outside and was dreaming, but then he spotted a little patch of a blue shirt and black tousled hair behind a mountain of what Dean immediately recognized to be pie, quickly informing him that no, this was no dream.

"Uh, Cas?"

There was a low grumble in response which made Dean's thoughts wander towards the image of a sleepy bear.

"What is all this?" he gestured around the room to which Castiel raised his head from the tabletop where he had been resting it atop of his arms and looked around, eyes hazy with sleep.

"Food." He grated out, as if the current state of the room was one of the most normal things in the world.

"Well, yeah I can see that," Dean answered, "but…._why_? I mean, who's gonna eat all this?"

Castiel groaned, stood up from the table and graciously maneuvered himself over a casserole that blocked his path.

"Consuming everything I cooked was never part of the plan." He admitted, dragging the palm of his hands over his eyes. Dean regarded him skeptically, trying not to think about how absolutely adorable the angel looked with his hair all rumpled and shirt hanging askew on his shoulders. A delicate dip of a clavicle bone peeked out from beneath the fabric and images of how well his tongue would fit against that space suddenly swept through Dean's head, making his hands twitch in their struggle not to reach out and simply rip that blue fabric open and send buttons flying all over the kitchen in a wild surge to lick the salt of that smooth skin. Castiel didn't seem to notice his inner conflict though, or perhaps he did, judging by the way he was still _not_ facing him and Dean somehow managed to tear his eyes away, clearing his throat and did his best not to notice the way Castiel's breath hitched in response to the sharp sound.

"So," he tried hopefully, even though realizing how unlikely it was, "Since you've stopped cooking, I'm going to assume that you're feeling better, right?" In response Castiel sighed, dragging his hand up to pull it through the already jostled strands of hair and then down to rub at his neck, a movement Dean had only seen him do once before when the subject of Cas' insistent virginity had been brought into the spotlight for the first time, and no matter how awkwardly endearing that nervous fidgeting was it did not bode well for their current situation.

"Not exactly." Castiel admitted. "Jimmy was a good cook, but even he runs out of food to prepare eventually, as does Bobby's pantry." The hand dropped, and blue eyes darted around the kitchen, looking, searching, studying. "I have to find something else to do." He declared silently.

"Yeah, yeah you do that." Dean cleared his throat, grabbing one of the pies that were balancing to his right and grinned happily, momentarily pushing their predicament aside. "I'll help you get rid of these until we've figured something out."

/\/\/\/\/\/\

They stayed separated for the rest of the evening.

Dean could still feel the tug of Grace around his soul, but it was not even close to the fierce need he had experienced before. Castiel on the other hand seemed to fare worse. He stayed put inside the guest room and only ventured outside when Sam started crying, not even giving Dean a chance to deal with the situation himself, most probably because it gave him something to focus on beside Dean who was lying sprawled out on the sofa with a half empty tray of pie in his lap, his fourth one for the evening. Every time the angel appeared in the doorway Dean instinctively tried to make eye contact, but there was none to be had. Castiel was avoiding him to the point of ridiculousness, sometimes not even answering when Dean spoke to him. Luckily for Dean, Castiel's wings did a lot of the talking for him; big, puffy, ruffled feathers vibrating shamelessly as soon as Dean moved more than an inch. As an experiment, because Dean was too much of an ass not to do it, he had taken a bite of the pie he was currently working on while Castiel bent down over the crib and moaned loudly, if not a bit exaggerated, when the sweet filling and crust filled his mouth.

The response had been an immediate swoosh of wings and a pair of Bobby's candleholders had been abruptly relocated from the mantelpiece to the floor along with a few books. Castiel hadn't even had enough composure left to glare at him when Dean snorted out a laugh, but karma got him back sooner than he had expected when a piece of pie got stuck in his throat the very next second.

Still, they made it through the first day without any grace-related incidents and the second day followed just the same. Castiel discovered the disputable joy's of house cleaning while Dean spent his time in the garage, only allowed inside when it was time to eat or sleep. He knew that he should feel offended by being kept out of the house like a dog, but since he liked the garage and knew that it was for the greater good he didn't really mind.

When lunch came around on the third day of their chaste agreement he came inside just in time to catch Castiel hunched down on the living room floor, clicking desperately on the power button to the vacuum cleaner while Sam watched him wide-eyed from inside the bars of his crib and before Dean had the time to shout out a warning there was a mute poof and then smoke began billowing out of the machine.

"Shit!" Dean threw himself forward and ripped the chord from the wall and then proceeded with grabbing the comforter by the sofa and using it to cover the machine which by now had small tongues of fire licking out from the air intakes, suffocating the fire before it had time to break out completely. Sam shrieked happily and clapped his hands together in childish delight, but Castiel just stared at him as if he had gone crazy and Dean managed to squeeze out an apologetic smile.

"It overheats." He explained awkwardly. "Bobby keeps saying he's going to fix it, but… apparently he hasn't gotten around to it yet."

Castiel's' eyes darted from the vacuum cleaner in Dean's arms and then back up with a look that wordlessly stated that Bobby was clearly insane to keep such dangerous pieces of equipment lying around the house without proper warnings and Dean grinned, for a moment forgetting the reason to why Castiel had been so eager to get the machine working in the first place.

It all came crashing back however when Dean's smile caused a whisper of feathers to fill the room and when he looked up he saw that Castiel had his eyes closed and was obviously having trouble to keep himself under control judging by the way his chest was heaving.

"Cas…?"

"You should leave." The angel breathed; a small tremble to his tone.

"But… what about my lunch?"

"_Dean_!"

"Yeah, yeah, alright, I'm going." Dean got up from the floor and scurried out the door, leaving Castiel in a shuddering heap on the floor next to the broken vacuum and he felt utterly useless from the knowledge that there was nothing else he could do to help… Well, of course there was _one_ thing, but that would be… major to say the least and Dean still wasn't sure if the way his stomach knotted at the though was caused by excitement or panic over the fact that he was even thinking about doing something like that in the first place. Cas would know though and there was no doubt in Dean's mind that the angel would tell him to get out back and bury himself in a carbonator until he got his head straight. Figuratively speaking… That was, if Castiel had been able to form more than single syllabled words…

Later, when he came back inside and the sun had already disappeared below the horizon hours ago he found a lone plate with cherry pie on the table as he entered the kitchen. Sammy was quietly asleep in his crib and Castiel was nowhere to be seen, the door to the guest room firmly locked from the inside.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

On the fourth day he received a call from Bobby who told him that he would be gone for a while longer; the job he was on was dragging out.

"So how's the love life?" the old man jabbed through the phone and Dean snorted.

"Like rainbows and kittens." He grunted.

"I take it from the chirp in your voice that you guys are still beating around the bush then?"

Dean's mind drifted to the way Castiel's wings had quivered beneath his fingertips, the delicious noises fleeing the angel's mouth starting up a loop inside his head and causing fire to stir in his abdomen.

"You might call it that." He mumbled, thinking that Bobby wouldn't need to know what had transpired on his kitchen counter. There was a short pause on the other side of the line and Dean could picture the suspicion falling over Bobby's face even before he heard it in his voice.

"I thought this grace-thing was an all-or-nothing kinda deal, yet you don't exactly sound like you're dying?" He even somehow managed to sound both relieved and suspicious at the same time.

"I'm fine." Dean said, shooting a quick glance up to the house. "Cas ain't doing too good though…"

"Dean…" Bobby's voice was serious. "I know that you're not exactly thrilled about the situation, but if you let him die because of this…"

"I'm not letting him die." Dean cut him off. "Geez, Bobby…"

"I'm just sayin… I know that you're a big fan of finding alternate ways out of trouble, but just this once you might have to give up on the compromises for a change."

Dean sighed deeply and dragged a dirty hand over his eyes

"I know."

There was another pause and then Bobby's voice was heard again, low and sincere.

"You keep him alive, you hear me boy?"

"Yeah…" it almost came out as a 'yes sir'. "Yeah, I hear ya…"

"Good. Say hello to Sammy for me."

/\/\/\/\/\/\

On the evening of day five, Dean was sitting perched on the sofa, a ten inch, freshly prepared hero sandwich in his hands and a content smile on his face. Sam was sounds asleep, snoring as usual and Castiel was in the kitchen, the double doors firmly closed and separating them from each other's views. They had discovered that is was easier for the angel to manage normal conversation as long as he didn't have to face Dean directly and Dean had to admit that even though he found it a bit awkward not to be able to read Castiel's facial expressions during their little talks it still came down to the inevitable fact that awkward talks were better than no talks at all...

As of now, Castiel was washing up the dishes from his previous little cooking spree, and even though Bobby's fridge had been stuffed to the point where they had to secure the door with one of Bobby's old leather belts and Dean had done a very ambitious job to make sure that none of the remaining food would go to waste, there was still an abundant of food that they had been forced to throw away.

As Dean took a huge bite out of the sandwich in his hand – he had assured Castiel that table wear would not be necessary – he could hear the sound of water sloshing and plates clattering from the other side of the door.

"Hey, Cas." He called out between the bites.

"Yes?" came the calm answer to through the door.

Dean straightened up to prevent some of the dressing to drip onto Bobby's sofa. Not that the sofa was that clean to begin with but because Castiel had spent most of the day trying to improve it of its normal uncleanliness. He might not have many angel-powers left, but apparently photographic memory wasn't one of the abilities missing, so if Dean as much as splattered a drop, Castiel would be all over his ass once he found out. His mental choice of words completely unintentional of course.

"I've been thinking about something." The words rolled around the food in his mouth and came out in the form of partial grunts and munches "I don't think your grace is affecting me anymore."

There was a brief silence which was only disturbed by the cluttered sound of water and porcelain.

"What makes you think that?" Castiel's voice was a bit stern, but Dean didn't linger on it. Cas had begun to sound increasingly snappish around him lately, for good reason he suspected.

"Well, it's just that I haven't been feeling feverish in days now, and… oh what the hell, I haven't been feeling as horny as I used to either."

More silence followed and for a moment Dean thought that he had probably gone overboard with his confessions, but then Castiel's voice came drifting through the doors again.

"You mean that you feel nothing?" there was a flutter of disappointment amongst the words.

"No, not _nothing_," Dean clarified. "Just not as much. You still, you know, turn me on." He grinned when an exceptionally loud clank was heard from the other room.

"I see."

Dean grinned wider when he heard the angel clear his throat before continuing;

"The most probable explanation would be that since the amount of grace in your system has been reduced your… cravings surely have been decreased along with it." Castiel's tone was that of reason, but Dean could still detect a hint of disapproval hidden somewhere just beneath the surface.

"Yeah, that's what I thought to," he admitted, licking some dressing off his thumb. "But how come it only seems to have gotten worse for you?"

"My grace is still significantly low compared to its usual state. The fact that there is remaining grace so close, no matter how small of an amount, still causes my body to yearn for it."

"Then why don't you just take it?"

"We've discussed this already, Dean." Yup, snappy was indeed the right word here. Dean rolled his eyes.

"I know that, but c'mon man; we're literally talking through a wall here, it's getting ridiculous."

"It's not a wall, it's a door." Cas deadpanned and Dean huffed.

"You know what I mean!" he grumbled. "And it's still ridiculous."

"I told you that I'm not going to let you sacrifice such an important part of yourself for me."

"Don't you think that should be my choice?"

"In this case? No."

Dean tossed the food back down on the plate.

"I'm not a child, Cas." He snarled.

"Sometimes I find it difficult to agree with that."

"What? A few days ago you seemed perfectly fine about getting groped ten ways from Sunday and now all of a sudden I'm not mature enough for you?"

"That was… different."

"Different?" Dean probed.

"Yes." Castiel growled impatiently "_Different_."

"And why is that exactly?"

"You already know why."

_How would it make you feel if you knew you were having sex with someone who didn't really want to have sex with _you_?_

Dean swallowed down the snappy retort that had been about to fly out of his mouth and instead picked up his food again, fighting the guilt coiling in his gut at the memory of those wounded words. The sandwich suddenly didn't taste as good anymore, the bread sticking to the roof of his mouth in dry clumps, making the task of swallowing almost impossible. He knew that bringing up their previous little rendezvous had been a low blow, because he _knew_ that Castiel had done that because he had thought it was what Dean wanted from him. And Dean had wanted, oh sweet Jesus, the desire he had felt towards the other during that time, but things were indeed different now. Dean was indecisive and Castiel was hurt; both enslaved under a power neither of them were really strong enough to fight and it was just _different_. This whole situation was fucked up beyond measure, and the fact that Dean's libido was still having heated arguments with his brain on the subject wasn't really helping trying to sort it all out. Dean liked Cas, he did, and his dick definitely liked Cas so there shouldn't really be anything to hold him back, but… Fuck this would be so much easier if only the two of them would have been able to communicate normally at least. Arguing with a wall, or door, whatever, wasn't exactly what he would call efficient. Then again… without the doors present they would probably be tangled up and grinding against each other on the living room table right about now.

"I admire your discipline you know." He said after a while. "I mean… I know that I'm not as affected by this as you are anymore, but… damn had the roles been reversed I would probably have fucked you up against the nearest wall a long time ago."

This time the racket from the other side was considerably noisier, but it was ended abruptly by a shocked gasp from Castiel followed by a hollow bang when something sounding like a frying pan hit the floor.

"Cas?"

Dean scrambled to his feat and tore the doors open, finding Castiel standing by the sink, clutching around his left hand with his teeth bared in a silent snarl, the grip of his fingers marred by a steady flow of red droplets that trickled down his arm and fell onto the floor, staining the rugged old carpet next to the saucepan lying at his feet, explaining the origin of the bang Dean had heard.

"Cas? What the hell…?!"

Castiel looked up and then nodded to the lathery water still sloshing in the basin.

"A knife in the sink. I need- I can't heal myself yet…"

Dean ripped a kitchen cloth from the hanger by the oven and moved over to press it against the wound on Castiel's wrist, but to his surprise Castiel flinched away, glaring at the hand Dean stretched out towards him with wings flared out in evasion, as if the gesture had been one of harmful intentions.

"Don't touch me!" He snarled and Dean froze. Castiel used the temporary window to snatch the towel from his grip and clasp it around his hand and Dean just stared at the normally so docile angel when he used his free hand and teeth to tie a knot around the crimson opening in the palm of his hand.

"_You_ can't ever touch me." He repeated, putting emphasis on the words as if they were a matter of life and death and Dean stepped back warily, hands held up defense.

"Sorry… Man, you're touchy today."

Castiel stilled, his shoulders hunched and wings raised high above his head, as if shielding and repelling some kind of invisible force.

"Touchy?" he growled and Dean knew right there and then that he had just stomped his big ass feet right into a fucking fox trap.

"Uh, I mean…I didn't realize-"

The counter slamming into his back hurt and Dean barely had time to react before he found himself backed up against the sink with Castiel's face a mere inch from his own and the angle's body pressed flushed against his, trapping him like a vice against the edge of the counter, hot breath on his face and with the stirring of an already pendant erection building below his waistline. Castiel's eyes were flashing lightning against his, the so carefully maintained self-control he had been displaying earlier slowly crackling and tearing along the edges like white hot electricity; dangerous. Lethal,

"You didn't _realize_." He hissed and Dean could feel the fingers in his shirt tighten, pulling him even closer as the sound of a million furious feathers filled the confined space of the kitchen when Castiel's wings flared out and up violently enough to cast a shadow over the entire room.

"You think this is a game?" he whispered threateningly. "You find this _amusing_?" It was more of a growl than it was words and Dean didn't know what to answer; he couldn't even bring himself to look up and meet the gaze from the angel's eyes, certain that if he did there would be no way for him to stop his body from acting out on all the things those blue eyes made him want to do. Castiel might be somewhat of a looker normally, but right now, like this…? If hadn't been questioning his sexuality already, the energy; the pure _force_ radiating off the other's skin would surely be enough to make him start. So instead of locking onto those blue eyes in their normal staring contest he let his eyes drop to the bandaged hand that gripped the front of his t-shirt, focusing all of his self control onto the slowly growing blossom of red that had begun to spread through the rough fabric. Castiel was coming even closer, heavy breathing gushing down his neck as the other growled against the shell of his ear, snapping the words out like a dog trying to keep itself from biting;

"I allowed you to glimpse the mental and physical strains this put on me before, Dean." He cautioned. "You should be aware that were I to attempt the same action now it would rip your fragile human mind to pieces."

Dean's heart was pounding in his chest so hard he was positive that the other must be able to hear it. The pulse was like thunder in his ears and he was almost painfully aware of the way Castiel's voice had gone shallow and ragged, the possessiveness of which those words burned hot as they were thrown out against his skin. He swallowed hard, careful not to let his tongue carelessly swipe out to moisture his dry lips, remembering how quickly such a simple gesture have been capable of taking situations like these from bad to worse in less than a second in the past.

"Alright, I get it." He breathed. "Cas. I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean to be disrespectful or anything." Castiel's eyes narrowed at him and it took all the self control he had to raise his own eyes and fasten them on the angel's blue ones. "I know you're doing this for my sake and I'm acting like a complete asshole here." He pointed to the blood stained hand that was still tightly clutched against his chest.

"But you're hurt, and you're bleeding all over the place. Just… let me look at it, okay…? Please?"

He made sure to let that last words come out as a question, seeing as he really wasn't in a situation to be making any demands. Tension hung heavy in the air and time almost seemed to come to a complete halt around them both before Castiel's shoulders slowly sunk, loosing their hostility and the fingers in Dean's clothes began to unfurl, releasing their grip. Dean didn't dare move yet though; not until after what felt like an eternity when Castiel let go of a deep, controlled breath and stepped back, allowing Dean to move away from the counter, which he did, slowly and vigilantly like a mouse moving away from a cat. Dean cleared his throat and swallowed, recomposing himself.

"You should sit." He suggested and motioned towards one of the kitchen chairs. Castiel threw the chair a suspicious look; as if he didn't really trust it, but then he obediently moved back and sat down, his blue eyes following Dean's every step as the human walked over to the cupboard where Bobby kept his first aid kit. Dean could feel the heat of those eyes prickle the back of his neck like needles, fully aware of how that sensation was not caused by the blunt, quizzical gaze that Cas normally directed his way; these were the predatory eyes that Dean had seen that morning three days ago and right now they were scaring him more than any angelic smiting in the world ever could.

He pulled out disinfectants, needle and thread from the first aid kit and sat down by the table – on the opposite side from Castiel mind you – and gestured for the angel to give him his hand. Castiel hesitated, eyes regarding the outstretched limb with the same distrust as he had the chair moments ago, but then he slowly placed his hand in front of Dean and allowed the human to carefully unwrap the cloth from around the wound. Dean gave him a little encouraging smile and a nod, placing the stained fabric next to him on the table.

"Alright, let's see what we have here…"

He grabbed Castiel's hand, but immediately released it again when the angel let out a startled groan and fisted the old table cloth with his free hand.

"Jesus, I'm sorry! Shit I didn't think it would hurt like…-" He realized the moment the words left his mouth that pain had nothing to do with the angel's reaction and Castiel shook his head, lips pressed into a thin line and eyes clenched shut, breath coming out in short bursts through his nose.

"Just get it over with." He gritted and Dean felt a blush creep its way up his neck. So that's how far things had gone now? The grace had actually driven Cas to the point where a simple touch between hands had become the equivalent of Dean carding his fingers through those sensitive, dark feathers… or worse? He coughed, trying to shake away the fine tremble from his hand when he reached it across the table, hesitation forcing him to stop inches away from the other's skin.

"You sure you can handle it?"

"Only if you hurry up." Thin slits of blue glared at him from underneath thick eyelashes and Dean sucked in a deep breath, averting his eyes.

"Alright…" he cleared his throat again, feeling sweat beading along the collar of his shirt. "Now this is probably going to hurt like a bitch, but..."

He held out the threaded, curved needle for Castiel to see and the angel nodded and Dean swallowed once more, ignoring the electrical tension that had settled over the room.

"Here we go then." He breathed.

Once more he grabbed the angel's hand, but even though he made sure that the grip was light and tender this time a low hiss still escaped the angel's lips and Cas turned his head away sharply, the sight of Dean's fingers on his body too much to bear. Dean flipped the hand over so that the palm was facing the ceiling, lowering the needle to make the first incision, but stopped and stared at the blood smeared flesh in front of him. Castiel felt his hesitation, but he didn't turn his head around.

"What's wrong?" he grumbled, but Dean simply lowered the hand back down on the table and released it, leaning back in his seat.

"See for yourself." He suggested.

Castiel blinked and shot him a confused look from the corner of his eye. Dean nodded towards the limb and Castiel retracted it, holding it up in front of his face, eyes widening. The wound in his palm had stopped bleeding and was slowly, slowly; almost enough to be invisible to the naked eye, closing up. Skin weaved over the gaping slice and soon there was only a faint pink scar where the once deep cut had been and as he watched even that faded into nothing, leaving only a smooth patch of skin behind. Dean leaned over the tabletop, staring as Castiel slowly flexed his fingers, as if in awe.

"Son of a bitch..." he breathed, and then he let out a sharp laugh, seeking the angel's eyes. Castiel only stared at the now healed hand in front of him, fist clenching and fingers uncurling as if the motion was something brand new.

He said nothing.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

On the sixth day, Dean made a mistake.

It wasn't that big of a deal, at least not if you asked Dean, but the effects it had were all but innocent.

Dean had been wrestling with the exhaust system of an old Buick during most part of the day and when he got back inside he was covered head to toe with oil and sweat and various grime that itched his skin and made him feel anything but fresh, so he decided to grab a quick shower before dinner. Now that was not a mistake in itself, of course not – keeping after ones personal hygiene was never a bad thing. The _mistake_ is what happened _during_ the shower.

It was a natural reaction really. There had been a very insistent, very loud voice in the back of Dean's head for almost a week now, pleading and begging for him to let up the pressure and take the matter of his unattended sexual urges into own hands, literally. He had done his best not to indulge in such activities, fearing that doing so would cause the same thing to happen as when he and Cas had been… dreaming… or whatever. He didn't want to risk that happening again, suspecting that the psychic connection between the two of them was still too strong. But even though he knew all of this, even though he was fully aware of the problems it could cause, he quickly found that it was downright impossible to keep his erection from swelling under the mixture of hot water and his own soapy hands rubbing over his body and that's when Dean made his first mistake.

He had managed to keep the thoughts of Castiel's body out of his mind for quite some time now thanks to his work on the cars, but now they came rushing back in, flooding his brain with the memories of touch and sound and that little treacherous voice in the back of his head started whispering again, telling him that it would be okay if he got himself off quickly, as long as he didn't drag it out. The mental bond had not made itself known since that one night and everything pointed to the fact that is was as good as gone now; there was reasonably no way Cas would ever find out if he indulged himself just this once. Just a few strokes to get him by, to make the situation easier to cope with; taking the edge off… Surely that wouldn't be a problem?

So when Dean wrapped his fingers around his hardened flesh he had not expected the situation that was soon to follow. The first couple of strokes went fine; his lips falling open in a silent gasp at the familiar feeling of a calloused palm moving against his skin, but when he let the pad of his thumb move up to gently swipe over the velvet skin on the head of his cock and imagined Castiel's tongue there instead, something sharp and forceful panged low in his gut and made him choke on his own breath with a sensation akin to pain. He grappled for the wall to steady himself, his head whirling and vision swimming in and out of focus as he struggled to breathe, the feeling rippling through his nerves and causing his knees to buckle and that's when he heard the crash coming from downstairs.

"Cas?!" he croaked out, scrambling to get the shower curtains out of the way, his legs giving out beneath him and forcing him down on one knee, the only thing keeping him steady being the bone crushing grip he had managed to land on the edge of the sink. Forcing himself up again, panic rushing out from his thumping heart in burning hot waves as he tore a towel from the hanger and wrapped it around his waist before stumbling out of the bathroom and hurrying down the stairs, risking life and limb by descending them three steps at a time. He found the angel on all fours in front of Bobby's desk in the study, shaking and breathing harshly through his teeth with eyes clamped shut and black wings thrashing wildly, sending books and scrolls flying from the nearby shelves onto the floor with sharp thuds and bangs. His fingers were curling into the worn old carpet, clawing the surface as if an invisible force was trying to drag him away and the sight of those hands, the way they bent and scratched in such desperation, was one of the scariest fucking things Dean had seen in his entire life. Castiel looked as if he was in pain, back arching and feathers quivering with the sounds of a million rattlesnakes and the first things that went through Dean's mind, before he even had time to think about what was going on and get his initial, _instinctive_ reaction under control, was that he had to _do_ something! The rug burned his knees when he came crashing down next to the angel on the floor, his lungs feeling as if they were being crushed by an invisible iron band around his chest, rendering his breath into short, wheezing gasps, but right now the only thought in his head was to make sure that Cas wasn't dying, his shaking hands reaching out to grapple at the convulsing body.

"Cas?! Cas, you okay?!"

"No!" Castiel's eyes widened in horror when Dean's arms wrapped around him, silken feathers slotting up against Dean's naked skin as the limbs curved under the appendages on his back to raise him to his feet. "No, don't touch-!"

But it was already too late. Every muscle in Dean's body locked up in seizure when the grace inside Castiel's vessel broke free and crashed into his system, filling him up and dragging him down in sizzling currents of pure ecstasy. He heard Castiel's voice coming from somewhere on his right but if there were any words in there then he wasn't capable of making them out, eyes blinded and ears thundering with the sound of his own racing heartbeats along with a pressure as if his head was about to explode. He was screaming, he had to be with the way his throat was aching, but he couldn't hear any of it. His fingers clutched around fabric and hung on for dear life, the rush of blue tinted white behind his eyes burning through his existence like a lit match through parchment and he was falling, falling and falling and he was still screaming as the dark closed in on him; his last coherent thought being a distant observation on how the velvety night filling up his vision reminded him about shiny, black wings...

* * *

_There, finally!_

_God you are all so patient and wonderful, I can't believe how you put up with me XD_

_I know this chapter has been on hold for a while now, but those of you who read my fic Hot Water already knows that I posted an Author's Note there a few days ago explaining why my writing has been a bit off lately. And on top of the things I brought up in that note I can now also add the fact that I just this Monday was forced to have my beloved cat Ajax put down to sleep. It's been rough and I've been crying rivers and eaten far too much junk food than what I probably should have, but life feels much better now when the worst part is over._

_But I'm not going to rant about me, that's not why you're here, so I just want to say thank you for being so awesome and so wonderful and precious. I seriously don't know what to do without you my darlings; I love every single one of you._


	10. Chapter 10

It was raining.

He knew it was, because he could hear the steady patter of water trickling against glass coming from somewhere to his left. It was dark too, but when he squinted his eyes open the murky light in the dusk room was still more than bright enough to make them sting painfully, bringing sharp, burning tears to prickle his vision. There was fabric rubbing against his arms, his legs, his chest and even though he knew that it was supposed to feel soft and pliant he found that it felt like being scrubbed down with sandpaper laced with needles whenever he tried to move. The pain surged a wave of panic through his system and his body tensed up instinctively against the prospects of possible danger, his brain struggling desperately with the task of figuring out where he was, how many he would have to fight, but when his blurred out vision drifted up and he recognized the old, battered shape of the headboard above his head the panic melted away as he realized that he was lying flat on his back, tucked safely in the big bed in Bobby's guest room, his head reduced into a slow, throbbing hurt and with every muscle in his body aching as if he had been worked over by a maniac with a sledgehammer.

_What the hell happened…? _

He closed his eyes against the offensive light and groaned, but even that small strain on his vocal chords felt like getting barbed wire dragged through his throat and the sudden pain made him cough and choke, fire exploding all the way down to his lungs. Dear God, why did it hurt so much?

And then he remembered; a flurry of dark wings, a panicked cry and…Cas.

_Cas!_

He opened his mouth to call out the name, but there was no sound; his voice broken and useless. Ignoring the new stab of pain the fabric sent through his body as he forced his tired muscles to move he began gathering the strength that would allow him to pull the covers away and sit up, but then he felt the steady pressure of a cool palm against his forehead and he stilled against the pillow, gasping for breath.

"I'm here, Dean."

Dean tried to open his eyes anew at the sound of Castiel's voice, but it was just so _bright_, and he shook his head, biting back a whimper and hoped that the other would understand, that he would make it _stop_.

"Breathe." The angel ordered and Dean choked out another strangled breath, struggling to get the fire in his throat under control and he felt Castiel's hand cradle the back of his head, nudging it up and then how something hard and cool pressed against his lips.

"Drink."

It took a few, disoriented seconds for him to realize that the object was a glass and he greedily latched on to the brim and drank down its content, relishing in the way the cold water quenched a thirst he had not even been aware of that he had, washing down the fire in his throat with ice cold gulps.

"Jesus fucking Christ…!" he rasped out once all the liquid was gone. If Castiel disapproved of his choice of words then he didn't show it, but instead simply pried the glass away from his mouth and refilled it from a glass pitcher standing on the bedside table before handing it back for Dean to gulp down.

It took four more rounds before Dean finally relaxed against the beddings, thirst momentarily quenched and Castiel put both the pitcher and the glass back down. Dean's head was still pounding like crazy, but his vision was growing steadier by the minute and his voice was back, even though it was weak and throaty as if he hadn't used it for a month. It reminded him all too well about that time when he had woken up to the murky insides of a wooden coffin, the air dry and stale and his body filled with the same throbbing ache and he shuddered at the memory.

"Jesus…" he groaned again, adjusting his posture and barely managed to stifle a hiss when the hair on his legs and arms rubbed against the covers. Every nerve in his body zinged with static tension and it gave him a feeling as if he had gone up five rounds against a Taser and lost.

"You should stay still." Castiel advised him quietly, "Your limbs are still recovering from the shock."

"Shock?" Dean stilled, taking the helpful hint from the angel, although still confused. "What shock?"

Castiel's eyes darted to the floor and that's when Dean slowly started noticing that something was different. Castiel was sitting in the same room as him, talking and touching him and from what Dean could see there were no signs of fidgeting or ruffling feathers whatsoever. The trench coat was back on, as where the white dress shirt and blue tie, but together with the mournful expression on Castiel's face they were not at all the reassuring image of stability that Dean had hoped they would be.

"Cas…?" he croaked, a horrible feeling of dread clasping around his chest. "What happened?"

The angel bit down on his lower lip, worrying it with his teeth and the fingers of his right hand dug into the lapels of the trench coat's left sleeve as if it was the only thing still keeping him anchored to his seat, or even more so the room in itself, and that little clutch of fingers right there scared Dean beyond senseless. He canted his head, seeking the angel's eyes, but they ducked away from him in avoidance,

"You have been… violated." Castiel's voice sounded so filled with shame that Dean didn't even know what to say. Thousands of graphic images immediately rushed through his dazed brain at the words, but his thoughts must have showed on his face because Castiel forcefully shook his head, an almost regretting tone to his voice.

"Not like that, Dean. I'm not talking about your body." Again Dean tried to make eye contact, but for the second time those eyes avoided his in favor of darting to the floor. Castiel took a deep breath, as if bracing himself against what he was about to say and Dean found himself holding his own in wait for the angel's words. "It's… your soul."

"My soul?"

Castiel abruptly stood up from the chair he had been sitting on and Dean felt the light tremors of panic beginning to surge again when the angel started pacing back and forth by the edge of the bed, a gesture so completely un-angelic it made him want to scream at him to stop.

"You were right." Castiel suddenly blurted out, still moving, worn dress shoes trudging against the faded carpet. "There was no use in trying to fight it. It was a proud and selfish thing of me to think otherwise and now you're hurting because of me."

Dean tried to keep up with the words spilling from the other's mouth but his head was still working on half speed, leaving him struggling in their wake instead.

"Hold on, what the hell are you talking about?" he winced when he tried to sit up more. "What _happened_, Cas?"

Castiel stopped and grabbed hold of the foot board with whitening knuckles and his voice was low and raspy when he spoke.

"The pressure got to strong." He began. "I thought I could handle it, but… when you grabbed hold of me in the living room… It was too sudden and I did not have time to prepare myself. My grace broke loose and ravished your soul, taking the remaining grace you inhabited by force, leaving it… broken."

The board beneath the angel's fingers creaked.

"I violated you in the worst way possible." he grated. "It was inexcusable."

"Dude…" Dean began, but he couldn't think of anything more to say. Clearly this was something serious, but even though he had now been told what it was he still didn't understand what it _meant_ or why the angel was so upset about it since to be honest, even if his body hurt it was still far from the worst pain Dean had experienced in his life and his soul didn't exactly feel any _different_. Castiel however intercepted whatever question he might have had by speaking anew.

"You've been asleep for almost four days." He said, still not looking at him. "I've tried to make it as comfortable for you as I could, but your body is still overly sensitized. You will find that any discomfort you're feeling right now will all go away in due time."

Dean scowled.

"What do you mean? If you took all the grace from me then why can't you just mojo them away?"

At those words Castiel flinched, shoulders drawing tight and he shook his head resolutely.

"I've done everything that I can. Healing grace related injuries are not easy even when they are skillfully executed. What I did-… It's like piecing back a jigsaw puzzle that's been thrown into a wood chipper. I'm sorry…"

Dean's eyes widened.

"Well you must have done one heck of a job then." He whistled, carefully lifting the bedspread that covered him and looked down upon his body, as if he would be able to see the traces of his soul's cracks like scars on his skin and abruptly choked on his own breath when he found himself to be completely stark naked with the exception of his black boxers, and even though he was eternally grateful for _that_ he couldn't fight the furious blush that instantly colored his cheeks. The angel had _undressed_ him for fuck sakes!

"I take it this means that the… uh… craving is gone, huh?" he croaked and Castiel seemed to hesitate for a moment, but then he nodded and Dean fell back against the pillows again, not even bothering with pulling the covers back up and Cas seemed to be too busy staring at his own feet to care. Which meant that things were back to normal again. Somehow he wasn't sure of how he felt about that…

"So…" he swallowed, carefully clearing his throat. "What happens now?"

Castiel straightened up.

"Once my powers are adequate enough I will return to heaven. There I will be able to heal properly and regain my strength…," He caught the frown on Dean's face, deflated once more and continued hastily "…once both you and Sam have been fully restored, of course."

Dean really did not like the thought of Castiel leaving, not so soon, which was ridiculous really because since when had Castiel not been coming and going, whooshing in and out of the world's many planes of existence as he pleased? Still, for some reason he couldn't bring himself to admit this discomfort out loud, so instead he sunk deeper into the beddings, trying to fight back the bitter taste the angel's announcement had left in the back of his throat.

"So you're still not fit for flying?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest in a completely non-sulking way, mind you.

"Not yet, no." Castiel answered.

"Right… So how long will I have to stay in here?" he gestured to the bed with his chin.

"It should not take long." Castiel assured him, his eyes still spending more time regarding the bedspread by Dean's feet rather than Dean himself. "To be honest, I feared that your soul would recess into the same state as it was when I first found you in Hell, but luckily it seems as if though you have recovered more than well over time despite the subjection of my hazardous decisions..."

Dean scoffed, not liking the condescending tone Castiel was using about himself, or the way the angel was hiding his face from him. There was a shadow there, lingering over Castiel's eyes and obscuring the light that had been Dean's one solid point of refuge ever since he got top side and he _did not like it_. Cas looked as if he knew Dean was going to ask him a question he didn't want to answer and right now Dean _really_ wanted answers.

"You should rest." Castiel abruptly turned and headed towards the door. "There's still a few days left until the lunar eclipse, you should be back on your feet by then." His voice was short and professional, all _business_. Dean hated it with every aching fiber of his body.

"Never been much for the hospital treatment so I'll probably be up in a few hours anyway." Dean grumbled out, hearing the words bounce off against the uncomfortable tension that had lowered itself between them; the silence slowly eating him up from the inside.

Castiel just looked at him incredulously and Dean rolled his eyes.

"Cas, I'm _fine_. Seriously."

Castiel nodded, but there was no light in his eyes when he answered.

"I know you are."

And then he turned and closed the door silently behind him.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Despite the gnawing feeling on the inside of his chest caused by Castiel's attitude, Dean still managed to sleep through the entire day and didn't wake up until late next morning. The sky outside was still gray and depressing, but there was no rain which was a relief at least. He sat up in the bed, feeling eternally grateful when the sheets didn't send prickling needles all over his skin, and he swung his legs over the edge of the mattress, put his weight on them and promptly smacked his head against the floorboards with a less-than-manly yelp when his knees buckled and gave out from underneath him.

Apparently his body wasn't done healing just yet. Go figure.

Climbing back into bed took him about half an hour, because he downright refused to call Cas and let the angel see him in a position like this, half naked an all… His arms trembled, his lungs heaved and a furious sweat broke out all over his body, but soon enough he was lying on his back in the middle of the sheets, gulping down breath like a drowning man but with a new sense of restored accomplishment pounding in his chest at least.

Later, despite Dean's spluttered assurances that he was feeling perfectly alright, Castiel insisted on serving him lunch in bed and if he noticed the furious red color of the Winchester's cheeks he didn't show any signs of it. Of course there was no real reason for Dean to worry about the angel noticing such things since Castiel had now gone back to _not_ looking at him full time, and Dean doubted that even if he spontaneously sprouted a pair of pink, frilly bunny ears Castiel still wouldn't hinge as much as a brow in response.

It was abundantly clear that Castiel was feeling devastatingly guilty about Dean's situation and even though Dean could have given examples of pains a thousand times worse than that of his current reduced working capacity, it seemed as if it was the action itself rather than the consequences thereof that bothered the angel. It was as if the intrusion his grace had made on Dean rendered him unworthy of the human's presence, even less his affections and every time Dean smiled or made a joke Castiel looked as if he was going to fall into pieces of pure shame and when Dean brought _that_ up Castiel responded by immediately leaving the room, knowing damn well that the hunter couldn't follow.

Dean didn't get it. Or, he _got it_, but he just didn't _get it_.

Castiel believed that he had done something indescribably awful towards him, and maybe he had, Dean was not really capable of making that call, but since it hadn't been a conscious choice Dean sure as hell wasn't going to _blame_ the guy for it. During his hours of solitude he tried to think back on the occurred event; tried to remember this horrible violation the angel presumably had done, but all he could recall was _grace_ and warm, _pulsating_ light and for some reason that memory always brought on a resilient hard on that caused the covers to tent almost rudely below his waistline. So if Dean's reaction to the violation was this, how could it possibly have been something as bad as the thing Castiel made it out to be?

He tried to give small hints about it, but he never got very far before Castiel changed the subject or simply walked out on him, everything executed in the same hollow demeanor that made Dean want to grab hold of the angel and shove him against the wall in order to either punch him or kiss the living daylights out of him; in his frustration he couldn't decide which one that was more tempting at the moment.

While his legs contemplated on whether they were going to start working anytime soon, Castiel continuously left him regular and unscrupulous reports on Sam's welfare and on the preparations to the ritual at hand. He provided him with scrolls and books to read up on and even gave him suggestions of the various locations that would be optimal for them to perform the ritual in itself.

It was all completely unnecessary of course. The spell was easy, just plain old Latin and Castiel knew just as well as Dean that the moon would shine just as brightly on the front of Bobby's yard as it would on the back. It was all a distraction created in order to keep Dean off the subject of _them, _but why Castiel put such effort into it was something Dean still couldn't understand.

The weather of course was doing nothing to encourage the situation. The rain had come to stay it seemed and whether it was pouring down or just drizzling from the sky it painted every day in the same unenthusiastic gray color as it had the day before. Hours passed excruciatingly slow, the tedious passing from dawn to dusk taking forever and Dean was itching to get up and out of this godforsaken room as quickly as he possible could. He felt restless and even though the angel had given him access to Bobby's crappy old TV, there was still a limit to how many hours Dean could drone away in front of Spanish soap operas and still keep his sanity. But still, the lack of entertainment was not the worst part by a long shot. Ever since he had first woken up he had felt a foreboding sensation that something was _not right_, like a black pit inside his chest; this dark, clenching _nothing_ that was reaching out with spidery fingers, looking, searching as if though trying to remind him of something he had forgotten, something that he had _lost_ and it just kept growing stronger and more insistent with every passing breath. He just couldn't shake it and it was slowly driving him insane!

The morning his legs managed to carry him all the way to the door felt like a blessing and just one day after he was fully capable of walking around the whole of the house without support. His resolve became more focused from that point because now Castiel could not hide from their conversations anymore by simply walking away and Dean was relentless in his mission to get the angel to _talk_ to him.

"I still don't understand what the big deal is?!" Dean hollered as the angel took his usual refuge to the kitchen, but Dean was far from giving up, following on his heels like a merciless, though very wobbly, blood hound.

"Why wont you talk to me?" he demanded while standing in the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest and forming what he thought was a very convincing display of unfaltering will, but Castiel did not look very impressed, as if he could see the amount of energy it took for the Winchester to even keep himself upright. Dean was good enough to walk, sure, but there was no power in his muscles, not yet.

"There is no reason for us to talk, Dean." The angel answered with a sigh and Dean scowled because Cas sounded so stale and battered; as if he was tired of everything and everyone.

Dean hated it.

"Like hell there isn't." he growled. "You're hiding something and I want to know what it is. And don't even start with the crappy excuses because they won't work. You're not even capable of _looking_ at me anymore and you _always_ look at me, Cas!"

Castiel's eyes flickered towards him for a split second, embarrassment flashing beneath the guilt-ridden stare before averting once more. "Yes, and see where that's brought us." he muttered and Dean made a disbelieving sound in the back of his throat.

"Oh no, you don't get to take the blame for this, you ass. We made this mess _together_ and if anyone should take responsibility for what your grace did it should be me. You told me to back off and I didn't listen."

"I should have known better," the angel insisted. "The bond between us-…"

"Oh, would you just shut up about the fucking bond already?!" Dean snapped and Castiel's brow knotted, as if he had just been insulted with a word he didn't understand and Dean resisted the urge to fist his own hair in frustration.

"It doesn't _matte_r, don't you get it?!" he snarled. "There is no blame here, why can't you get that through your thick skull?!"

"You don't understand." Castiel whispered hoarsely, turning his back on the Winchester, but that only made Dean snort out loudly in response.

"Don't you dare give me any of your 'holier than thou' speeches, Cas." He spat. "I know you, and this has nothing to do about me not being able to understand; it's about the fact that you're terrified that I _will_."

Castiel's shoulders tensed and his wings drew in tight; tiny gestures in the angel's body language that Dean had come to know as evident signs that he was being spot on.

"Why can't you just let this go?" he asked, softening his voice a little; turning the accusation into an honest question. "I'm up! Walking and talking. It's not like my injuries were even that bad to begin with."

The glare Castiel sent him over his shoulder at that could have made an entire ocean freeze.

"That only shows how foolish you are." He snorted. "The amount of grace I forced onto your soul came within an inch of ending you. Just because it didn't does not justify me letting that happen."

"Screw your melodramatic bullshit, Cas." Dean retorted testily. "I got a few bruises and a headache, what the hell does that have to do with anyth-"

Cas whirled around and suddenly pitch black wings were towering ominously over Dean, filling up the air inside the small kitchen area like the physical manifestation of every dark omen ever conveyed by the Bible, onyx feathers shivering with held back aggression.

"Your internal organs were torn apart!" The angel spat and the force with which the words were sent hurling towards him almost made Dean bite his own tongue. "When I came to you were bleeding _everywhere_! Your spleen was ruptured, your stomach torn out and your lungs had _exploded_ inside your chest! There was not a single bone still whole in your body and I-…!" Castiel's voice thickened and choked, as if the mere memory of Dean's former state was too painful to even linger upon, even less put in words. "I did what I could." He grated out. "I've put you together once before; I figured I could do it again, and _I did_, Dean. I cleansed the blood from these walls and put it back inside your body. I built you a new heart, grew you a new pair of lungs and I mended your bones as I kept your soul cradled against me in order to keep you _here_."

Dean stared at him wide-eyed, the full meaning of what the angel was telling him slowly sinking in and sending icy cold fingers skirting up his spine.

"I was dead…." He whispered, but Castiel shook his head.

"It was, as I believe you humans call it, a touch and go situation." he muttered and at that Dean's brain snapped back into gear.

"How much did it cost you?" he demanded and his hands fisted by his sides as the angel looked away in response. "Cas, _how much_?"

"Less than I would have been willing to give." Castiel answered and Dean could have punched his face in right there.

"So that's why you're not able to go back to Heaven yet? Because you drained yourself trying to save me? God damnit Cas, you could've-!"

"I am not _drained_." Castiel cut him off before he was able to get any further. "I have more power now than I had three days ago and it's increasing even as we speak."

"And you expect me to believe that?" Dean snarled. "If you're not drained, then how come there's no psychic pull between us anymore? If you healed me like you say you did then there should be grace left inside me just like last time and that means you should be shoving me against the wall and tearing my clothes off by now, but just look at you! Maybe there's enough grace left in order for you to keep your wings intact, but that's probably all there is!"

"Dean-…"

"No!" Dean interrupted. "I'm done with this crap! If your mojo is on the low rise then how come can't I feel it?!"

"Because this time I did it _right_!"

And just like that it was as if someone had turned on the lights in a pitch dark room and Dean _got it._

The gnawing feeling that had been eating him up from the inside out ever since he opened his eyes in Bobby's guest room, it was so clear, so _evident_ and the realization of what it meant felt like a stab to the heart.

Dean could not feel the strain of their bond anymore because the bond was _gone_.

He stared at Castiel and for the first time he understood why the angel was not able to look at him. The bond was severed. The link that had tied Dean to Cas since the moment the seraph had first laid hand on him in The Pit was not there anymore and suddenly Dean felt like he was going to throw up.

"Cas…"

"It had to be done." The angel mumbled. "The bond put you in a danger that I could not protect you from. You're better off without it. You're free."

Free? Dean tried to remember the word, what it used to mean, but came up with nothing. 'Free'… the only thing it meant right now was hurt and betrayal far worse than anything he had ever experienced and he couldn't for the life of him understand how the angel could tell him he was better off without it when the loss made him feel worse than the loss of a physical limb ever could.

"You stupid son of a bitch." He breathed. "Why would-…?"

He wanted to scream. He wanted to yell at the top of his lungs and his fists wanted to hurt, to crack bones and draw blood because _why_?! The dark hole inside his chest suddenly seemed to stretch throughout his whole body and he felt empty, cold and hollow and he _didn't understand_.

"So you just…" he threw out his hand "...took it away? Just like that?"

"I had to." Cas mumbled.

"No you didn't!" Dean snarled. "Don't you fucking _dare_ stand there and tell me something you know isn't true! You didn't do it because you had to; you did it because it was _easy_!"

"I did it because it was _right_." Cas glared at him. "I almost got you killed because I was trying to keep something that wasn't mine and the only thing I regret is that I didn't have the strength it took to sever the bond like I should have the moment you clawed yourself out of that grave in Illinois!"

"But you didn't _mean_ it!" Dean winced. "How can you possibly blame yourself for something you couldn't control?!"

At this the angel's eyes narrowed and he took a slow step forward, his wings billowing out behind him like storm clouds loaded with thunder.

"And _you're_ the one asking me this?" he hissed. "_You_, who have taken the blame for _everything_ that has ever gone wrong in your family's life since you were a mere child? _You_, who would rather have stayed in The Pit because you didn't believe yourself _worthy_ to be saved?"

Dean's mouth fell open with a disbelieved squawk. He couldn't believe Castiel was using that against him. Not here, not _now_.

"You son of a bitch…" he hissed, but Castiel paid him no heed, using every ounce of the angelic appearance he now carried to stare the other man down and pin him to the door frame. Dean's mind made a violent back lash to the image of a barn where blue flashes painted shadows of giant wings over the uneven surface of boarded up walls and he gulped in spite of himself, Castiel's face leaning in towards him with his teeth bared in a snarl.

"Even as I ripped the blade and tongs from your hands you were trying to fight me off." He bit out. "You screamed at me, cursed my name and told me to go back, to get out of your sight and that you were not coming because this was your _punishment_, one that you believed yourself to have _earned_."

Castiel's eyes fell on the handprint that peeked out from underneath the sleeve of Dean's t-shirt and the hostility in his body seemed to fade, wings folding slowly and drawing closer as deft fingers came up to brush hesitantly against the worn fabric…

"But I did not listen." He mumbled, voice suddenly lost in memory. "I grabbed you, and I tore you out while you screamed and clawed at me, demanding that I let you go. In order to get us out alive I was forced to pour my grace into your soul so that your struggle would not endanger us both. I should have foreseen that such an act was bound to leave a mark..."

Dean fought down the itch he had to place a hand across the scarred tissue, for some reason reluctant to let Castiel touch it, as if the angel would be able to take that away too did he get the chance. He did not remember any of the things Cas was telling him and even if he were to think of them as untrue; how could he possible argue against something he could not even remember? So he waited, and when Castiel spoke next his voice was low and filled with such self-loathing it left a sour taste in the air and the hand that had been toying with the hem of Dean's shirt pulled away as it had been burned.

"So you see," the angel rasped. "I knew about the bond we shared long before this happened. I've always been able to feel my grace inside you, but I've done nothing to change it even when knowing the risks it could bring. Because I wanted to keep you. I wanted others to _see_ what I had accomplished, I wanted you _marked_, Dean Winchester, and because of that I ended up risking your life for my own selfish desires."

"You're taking this far too serious, Cas." Dean warned, trying to ignore the contradicting mix of flattery and indignant objectification the other's words caused to stir inside him. "You were following orders. You did what you had to do in order to get me out and you even if you took a few liberties you couldn't know that this would happen. This is not your fault."

Castiel's eyes snapped up to his.

"You tipped the scale that started the apocalypse." the angel pointed out mercilessly. "You neither were aware of the course your actions made the world take, but that has never stopped you from trying to carry the weight of it on your own shoulders. What makes my mistakes any different?"

Dean fought the urge he had to grit his teeth, forcing his voice to stay calm and steady.

"You can't possibly draw a parallel between this and what I did." He objected grimly.

"And why is that?" Cas tilted his head in challenge and Dean's anger flared like a bonfire.

"Why?" he spat incredulously. "Because it was the _apocalypse_! It was the _end_ of the god damn _world_!"

"Yes!" Cas snarled. "And what, _exactly_, do you think you are to me?!"

Dean's jaw shut with a mute click of teeth only to fall open once more when he tried, in vain, to come up with an answer. Castiel was glaring at him, watching him struggle to voice the response they both already knew of and then between one blink and the next, he disappeared to the strong whoosh of wings and Dean was left alone, staring at the kitchen sink in disbelief. A motion in the corner of his eye caught his attention and he hurried to the window, seeing Castiel stride away from the house with long, angry steps towards the tree line surrounding the west side of the premises, his trench coat flapping angrily behind him and wings curled defensively against his back.

Dean watched him go, his hand finally shooting up to fit against the brand he carried on his flesh, feeling his chest tighten almost painfully when the usual tingle that had always been there in response never came, leaving the touch cold and hollow beneath the palm of his hand.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Castiel didn't visit the guest room for the remains of the day, but when Dean went out to the kitchen in order to make himself some dinner there was already a platter with food prepared for him on the kitchen table. Dean wasn't sure if he wanted to eat it or hurl it into the wall, but eventually his stomach won over his emotions and he scooped up the plate and skulked back to his room, neither Castiel nor Sam anywhere in sight.

Dean didn't bother with checking the rest of the house after them. Wherever they were Castiel was more than capable of keeping Sam safe and they couldn't have gone that far anyway. The little teleportation stunt Cas had pulled in the kitchen might have been short distance but it had probably cost him a lot more juice than the angel had planned. He had been upset and had most likely acted on reflex, that old habit of avoidance taking control before he realized himself what he was doing. Dean knew nothing about the energy it took to teleport with the Speed of Angel, but as far as he was concerned that little trick could have drained Cas back to zero all over again.

It made Dean want to grit his teeth. In his opinion the saying "stubborn as a mule" should be changed into "stubborn as an angel", because damnit, he had never met anyone as hardheaded in his life! He still didn't want to believe the things that Cas had told him, but the vacant space screaming inside his soul was impossible to argue against. The bond was gone; disintegrated and scattered to god knows were and the loss was like an itch that made him want to crawl out of his own skin and set himself on fire because then at least he would be able to feel _something_! Right now all his emotions except for anger and frustration and loss and helplessness were being sucked down this draining black hole and he just wanted it gone! He wanted things back to normal again, when he could tell a poor ass joke that Cas wouldn't understand and then Dean would try to explain it and fail horribly and Cas would look at him as if he was staring into his very soul and then they could just stand there and have an entire conversation play out between them in the span of just a few seconds because that's how they _worked_! All that was gone now and he felt crippled, like a marathon runner who'd just lost both his legs and he simply didn't know what to do…

His sleep that night was riddled with nightmares. Images of the cold, harsh planes of Hell swam through his dreams; the blood soaked restraints of the Rack and the evil shine of fire as it reflected upon steel and bones clear inside his head, the screams and the smoke, dark, dark tunnels and constricting shadows that could choke you with a thought playing inside his mind and then it was all ripped into pieces when something brighter than the core of the sun crashed into his existence and Dean could feel the heat and hear the sizzle of burning flesh along with the sound of demons being torn to shreds around him and then a hand closed around his upper arm and he woke up with a strangled scream catching in the back of his throat. The dream evaporated the moment his eyes opened, but he could feel the familiar fear ripple through his skin and how his stomach twisted, fighting back the overwhelming reflex to hurl as he bent over and rested his head in his hands, heaving and gulping down breath into his lungs as the last fleeting glimpses of his dream shriveled up and disappeared from his memory and he dug the heels of his hands into his eyes, groaning silently.

His sheets were drenched and they clung to his body in soaked patches as he sat up, his chest burning as the usual post-Hell-dream-reactions made themselves known and he fumbled for the glass and pitcher on the bedside table, only to frown when he found the spot empty, remembering with a new groan that he left them both in the kitchen earlier that day before he and Cas had their little spout. His knees wobbled beneath him as he crawled out of bed and headed for the door, his stomach making a violent flip on his way over. He needed water or his throat was going to burn up, but when his hand landed on the handle he stilled, ears perking intently.

The familiar sound of Cas' voice came floating through the solid wood, soft and mysterious like Avalon mist and Dean listened as the voice dipped and rose in a slow, smooth pattern, realizing with a sense of pride that the angel was singing to Sam again. He tried to remember the notes from that time in the motel, but he quickly concluded that it was another song this time. It was a sad melody that conjured images of a vast shore line by the sea covered by rain colored clouds with waves rolling against the sand, driven forward by a hollow wind that sang of solitude, loss and regret, mourning and a love for the great planes of the ocean that was now forever lost. It was a melody that made Dean's heart ache and he didn't realize that there were tears in his eyes until the singing stopped and one of them slowly began trailing down his cheek.

_He sang to you._ His subconscious suddenly whispered and the pang that went off in his gut at the words sent him slumping heavily against the door. _For days and days, in the middle of the fire and ice and the blood and the pain, he sang to you. _

He couldn't remember it all, the memories of his journey out of the Pit locked away in some dark corner of his soul that he wasn't sure he would be able to handle unlocked, but he knew that it was true. There had been no words back then, not like the song he had just heard, but there had been a melody, a tune, a _feeling_ that had wound itself through everything that he was and Cas had sung to him as he held him tight, the song building until it shone bright like a star between them and then-…

His hand clasped around his shoulder like a vice and he winced because _then_… The memory sent lights flashing behind his eyes and he sank down to his knees, sliding his body against the door frame for support because his legs simply wouldn't carry him. Images of Bobby's living room swam before his vision, the ragged old carpet standing out in such clarity that he could have counted every single thread in it and Castiel's wings were wrapping around him, the smooth silk fluttering against his naked skin and there had been such warmth, such love and Dean had wanted it, pleading and begging and Cas had been right _there_, at the edge of his mind and Dean had opened up, had reached for it, _offered_ himself and Cas had touched him, just the faintest hint of a brush and Dean's soul had literally soared as he had suddenly felt _everything_. It had been the same fire, the same pulsating light and the same heat only a thousand times more and he had felt everything that was Castiel; from the overwhelming celestial creature shaped to follow and obey that resided within the human form before him to the individual, independent angel that Dean had come to care for with such intensity and then that had all been washed over with a flood of panic and fear; a horrible sense of irrevocability that had made Dean's heart stop in his chest and then the door had been slammed shut in his face and everything went dark as Castiel ripped away from him and then there had been only _pain_.

He opened his eyes, gasping as if had just come out of a pool of ice cold water and his nails dug into the skin of his left shoulder to the point of breaking skin and he _remembered_.

It wasn't the grace that had caused the physical damage to Dean's body that day, it was Cas! Not intentionally of course, the angel had not even been aware of what was going to happen, but when Cas pulled away from him, in the midst of the panic and the confusion something had snapped, the channel through which they communicated tearing wide open and Dean's entire body shook from the sheer recollection of it. The grace being ripped from his soul had been bad enough, Castiel had been right about the risks there, but Dean did not even wish to imagine the horror to which the angel must have opened his eyes, realizing that the mangled sight of Dean's body lying before him was _his_ doing.

Dean closed his eyes, willing his pounding heart to slow down, the ghost of Castiel's voice whispering inside his head.

_The bond put you in a danger that I could not protect you from._

_You're better off without it. You're free._

"Cas, you stupid son of a bitch…" he hissed, gritting his teeth as he struggled to get up from the floor, his legs wobbly beneath his weight and stumbled back to the bed where he collapsed onto the now cold sheets. The scene played out inside his head, over and over and over again and for each time it all became so much cleared and so much confusing all at once.

Dean had offered himself up. He had wanted whatever it was that Cas would have been willing to give and Cas had wanted it too, but then… then the angel got scared and all hell had broken lose. What in the world had made him panic so? It's wasn't as if Dean didn't already know about how Cas felt about him; one would think that he would be glad to find that Dean felt the same, so freaking out about it just didn't seem right. Behind his ribcage his heart made a particularly hard thump, like it always did whenever he thought about… _that_.

His feelings for Cas…

It had taken a lot of time and it had not been anywhere _near_ easy, and even now, just thinking the words made his gut draw together tight and his heart to do these weird skip-jump-stumble-face plant-thing in his chest.

It wasn't an unpleasant feeling, but it was… weird, not to mention completely out of his element.

During the long hours he had been hospitalized in Bobby's guest bed he had been given time to talk things out with himself and once he had managed to shove all his usual crap back into the deepest corner of his mind and boarded that shit up, things had been surprisingly clear. The whole grace scenario had started it, yeah, he could roll with that, but the grace was gone now. There was nothing supernatural or otherworldly that tied Dean to the angel anymore and still, _still_, he couldn't get the son of a bitch out of his head. His heart _still_ grew cold to the thought of Castiel leaving and never coming back. His chest _clenched_ at the thought of the angel being angry with him and his head practically _reeled_ from the thought of long slender finger roaming his body in the dead of night when all the lights were out and Dean was burying his moans into the downy texture of his pillow, for once not even trying to pretend that the body starring inside his private fantasy wasn't male.

It was new and terrifying, of course it was, but he could no longer argue with himself over the fact that he _liked_ having Castiel's breath come out in ragged chokes, that he _liked_ having his own dick riding the ridge of the other's thigh and that he _absolutely_ liked the feel of the other's tongue inside his mouth. Just as much as he liked the way Castiel could smile with his eyes without even quirking his lip, they way one could never be sure if he was telling a joke or if he was being completely serious. The way his tie never hung the way it should or the puppy dog eyes he could pull that made Sam look like a frickin' amateur's… And maybe, just maybe, there was still time to make a few things right in this chaos they had been pulled into. Castiel had appropriately formed the metaphor himself; Dean meant the world to him and Dean had already caused the oncoming destruction of one of those before – he did not intend to make the same mistake twice.

It was however abundantly clear that Cas was not going to come anywhere near him until it was time to perform Sam's ritual which meant that if he wanted to make things right he would have to initiate contact himself. So that's why the next morning, two days before the eclipse, Dean walked out of the guestroom and strode through the house with long steps, his mind set and determined and with a whole new level of resolve settled firmly in his chest.

This game was ending.

Right the fuck now.

* * *

Thank you for being patient with me guys. And for those of you who are also reading Hot Water - I'm going to do my very best to get the next chapter up ASAP. I'm not going to bore you with the details on why it's taking so long, but lets just say that just when I thought my life couldn't get any worse, said life decided to come around and give me an old school style punch to the face.

Thankfully your love keeps me going and I just wanted to let you know that I appreciate every single review and PM you have sent me, even though circumstances has prevented me from responding to them as I would have liked.

I hope your holiday celebrations have been wonderful and I wish all of you a Happy New Year filled with Destiel-smexy-goodness! ;)

Happy New Year my Darlings!


	11. Chapter 11

The rising sun was hidden far behind the purple storm clouds that had gathered over the horizon and as Dean entered the living room he heard the faint rumble of thunder rolling in the distance. Ignoring the ominous sign he noted that Sam's crib was still empty, but that didn't worry him much, and instead he padded barefoot out into the hallway without even caring to look in the direction of the kitchen, knowing without seeing that Castiel wasn't in there.

The door to the porch out back was open and it didn't surprise Dean one bit to find the angel sitting out there in one of Bobby's rickety old wooden chairs, gazing out over the early morning scenery. There was a delicate crisp in the air that sent a pleasurable shiver up Dean's spine as he walked outside and even under the pressure of what he was about to do the outdoor atmosphere felt strangely rejuvenating. Sam was lying on his hands and knees on a big blanket on the porch floor a few feet over and he was swaying back and forth as if he was charging to launch himself forward like a rocket at any given moment, all the while with a huge enthusiastic grin plastered all over his face.

"Good morning" Dean greeted casually, to which Castiel turned his head and gave him look that verged on the borders of panic.

"You shouldn't be up." He rasped, but Dean ignored him and walked up to his brother instead.

"Hey Sammy!" He bent down, feeling Castiel's eyes drilling into his back as he exaggerated his display of cheerfulness by rubbing the top of Sam's head fondly before he walked over and pulled out another chair from the wall and placed it next to the angel's.

"Slept well?" he asked, attempting to make conversation even though he noticed the way Castiel's body tensed up when he sat down.

"No."

Okay, so maybe he hadn't expected such a blunt answer.

"Why, what's wrong?" he asked, but Castiel simply gave him a quick sideward glance and for a brief moment Dean could see the panic flutter and give way for annoyance.

"Nothing's _wrong_, Dean. I just didn't require sleeping."

"Oh… right."

He had completely forgotten that the ordinary, healthy Castiel wasn't held back by such trivial, _human_ things as _sleep_. The memory of the angel snoring atop the kitchen table just the other day suddenly felt like something fetched out of a wayward dream.

"I guess that means that you're feeling better then?" he asked.

"Yes."

Dean glanced back at the two feather clad limbs that were sticking out over the back of the angel's chair.

"What about those?" he nodded. "You're planning on ditching them too?"

Castiel didn't grant his wings as much as a glance.

"Eventually, but for the moment it's more comfortable keeping them like this." He muttered, still staring straight ahead.

"I guess that makes sense." Dean agreed. "Besides, it would be a shame to get rid of them so soon anyway." he added, his hand reaching out to stroke down the large quills of the right wing as if it was the most natural thing to do in the world, causing Castiel to jump violently in his seat and his eyes to flutter shut, his grip around the armrests hardening and causing the wood to creak loudly.

"Yeah… that'd be a shame…" Dean repeated, his fingers combing through the black feathers one final time before letting go. "So… the cravings are gone, huh?" he asked with only a hint of steel in his voice, allowing Castiel the luxury to collect himself for a moment.

"The ones caused by grace, yes." The angel aimed for dry and professional again, but the ragged tone of his voice gave his composure away as he spoke.

"I see…" Dean hummed, and he could see from the corner of his eye how Castiel's feathers twitched and how the large wings rose above his head in curious response to Dean's voice.

"I take it that's another reason to why you've been avoiding me." he assumed out loud and to his left Castiel's breath hitched ever so lightly.

"I haven't been avoiding-…" he started, but Dean cut him off.

"Seriously, Cas?" he groaned, giving the angel a poisonous look. "We both know that's exactly what you've been doing. The only reason you're still here is that you're not able to flap your ass back to Heaven yet." Anger snuck into his voice as he spoke, but he willed it down. "It didn't occur to you that I might actually want you to stay close?" he demanded.

Castiel didn't answer, eyes kept locked on the tree line in front of them and after a few seconds of silence Dean leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees with a tired sigh.

"I know what you did Cas." He said firmly and next to him the angel flinched as had he been shot. "I remember what happened. You almost managed to kill me back there and I _know_ that it was an accident and that you didn't mean to, but what I don't understand is _why_."

"Dean-"

"No." Dean straightened up. "I will only ask you this one more time. _What_. _Happened_? You panicked over something, and since I'm the one who almost had to throw in the towel over it I think I'm entitled to a bit of information. So spill it."

Castiel let out a low, wounded sound, his feathers dropping low behind his back and drawing in tight to his body. Dean waited and the angel only managed to send him one final, pleading look before he finally started talking.

"When we-…" he cut himself off, clearing his throat. "When angels perform what you humans refer to as 'mating'… or 'marriage'…" He seemed to get caught on the syllables of the words, as if they were too foreign and oddly shaped to fit his tongue correctly. "…it has a more permanent result that what your kind could ever imagine. The vows you give each other during a wedding ceremony are but poor attempts to mimic the ones we give and for us it's just a process. A wordless action between two entities; not a ceremony involving grand speeches, jewelries or witnesses." He swallowed, his throat and jaw flexing. "It's a merging of graces, allowing two angels to become part of a whole and it's… irrevocable."

"So… angel marriage?" Dean asked slowly and Cas nodded to which Dean threw his hands out, deciding to just go with it for the sake of the situation, no matter how wacky it sounded. "So what does that have to do with me?" he probed and at that finally, finally Castiel's eyes turned towards him.

"You really don't know?" he whispered silently and Dean's eyes widened, the steady pounding of his heart suddenly amping up as realization hit.

"So that thing in the living room," he mumbled. "When I felt that-… that was-?"

"Your soul attempting to merge with my grace, yes."

How the angel could possibly say that with such detachment was beyond anything Dean was able to comprehend at the moment.

"Hold on, hold on." He turned in his seat, his legs pointing awkwardly towards Castiel and pressing into the hard wood of the chair. "You're telling me I was trying to _marry_ you? That's what freaked you out?"

Cas sighed ruefully and closed his eyes.

"Stop using human words to define what not even angels have bothered finding a vocabulary for. It is not a marriage; it's a _bond_. It's different for everyone. And yes…" he added, voice fading slightly. "That's why I… freaked out."

Dean's chest pulled tight, the fingers of his right hand coming up to fidget with the nails on his left.

"Because you didn't want to." He said slowly. Man, he could understand how something like that could have caused the panic he had felt when Cas pulled away from him, but… he hadn't expected the rejection to hurt. Not like this. Of course he couldn't blame the guy; getting ambushed by a proposal could throw anyone off their game… and it wasn't like the thought about a… marriage, bond, whatever, didn't freak himself out slightly, but to be honest, if there ever was someone who would be able to stand something like that with _him_, then Cas would be that person… and the possibility that such a future was something the angel did not only see as unwelcomed, but also as something worth panicking over, _hurt_. But to his surprise, instead of agreeing with him, Castiel simply tilted his head at him and frowned.

"I never said that." The angel objected and Dean blinked before reaching up and pinching the bridge of his nose, trying to sort his thoughts out because now he was just confused.

"Alright, but if you wanted it and…" he licked his lips, swallowing once hard, "…my soul wanted it too, then what was the big hold up all about? Why did you rip the bond apart the way you did? Because I know you, Cas, and you have more self control than that."

Castiel's shoulders squared defensively and once more his gaze was directed straight forward.

"I told you weeks ago that keeping you safe was a task I chose of my own free will. The bond clouded my judgment and put you in danger, so I removed it, as I would have any other threat."

"God damn it, Cas…" Dean groaned, burying his face in his hands, "Why the hell didn't you tell me about this angel-marriage deal when I asked in the first place? I mean… fuck, we could have fixed this!"

"There was no need for you know. The damage had been done." Castiel deadpanned and Dean's mind shifted from reasoning to offended in half a second flat.

"So you just _decided_?" He asked with a slight chill to his voice, his jaw setting defiantly. "Again?"

"Yes, I _decided_." Castiel threw back and Dean gritted his teeth in sheer frustration.

"Well that was a fucking stupid thing of you to do." He bit out and Castiel sighed, shaking his head as if he didn't know what to say next.

"Then what would you rather have had me done, Dean?" he demanded and Dean threw his hands up.

"Geez, I don't know Cas, how about asking me about what _I_ wanted first?!"

Castiel blinked, momentarily stunned to silence, but then he sighed heavily as if the prospect of Dean's approval was nothing but a cruel taunt.

"What you wanted would not have made a difference." He mumbled.

"And why the hell not?"

"Because the bond we have-…" he cut himself off, closing his eyes in resignation. "_Had_," he corrected slowly, "was complicated. You don't have grace, you have a human soul. A merging between the two would not have worked the same way as the one between two angels. My grace would have consumed your soul and then you would have been tied to me for eternity and you would not want that, Dean." He opened his eyes again and looked at him, regret and pain swimming just below the surface. "You think you do, but you don't."

"Who the hell are you to tell me what I do and do not want?" Dean growled. "I'm a grown ass man, Cas; I can make these decisions for myself."

"Not _this_ _one_." Castiel said firmly. "It's an _eternity_, Dean. Your mind has no concept of how long that is, we barely have ourselves. Even after you die, your soul would be tied to me until the end of all time."

"And that would be wrong how?" Dean questioned and at that Castiel actually snarled at him.

"Have you not been paying attention?" he demanded. "I would _enslave_ you; _shackle_ you to me! You would be bound and restrained; the very fate you have taught me to fight with everything that I am and I almost-"

Castiel abruptly stood up from his chair, undoubtedly to leave, but Dean was quicker, having anticipated just that and his hand lashed out as he stood up as well, strong fingers wrapping around the base of Castiel's right wing in an unyielding grip and forcing the other to a halt. Castiel gasped, knees buckling momentarily when Dean pulled him back and spun him around, his free hand taking hold and locking around the lapels of the trench coat like a vice. He wasn't sure if holding on to Castiel's wings or clothes would hinder him from taking off like he had before or if he would automatically take Dean with him if he tried, but Dean was not letting go, even if travelling by Angel Airways would without a doubt make him throw up on his own god damn shoes once they reached their destination...

"Listen, I don't _care_ what you think you were about to do to me." He snapped, "You hear me? I don't _care_. So you screwed up; who hasn't? And yes, things did not go as you thought they would, but I'm _fine_, we're _both_ fine and I'm sick and tired of watching you blame yourself for something that you had no control over!"

"Dean…" Castiel's wing twisted to get away, but Dean tightened his grip around it, reducing the angel's protest into a series of inaudible moans. It was a dirty trick, Dean knew it, but at the moment he had no interest in following the rules.

"What happened to me was _not_ your fault!" he growled. "I almost died, again, because I don't listen when people tell me to back off and you saved me, _again_! So this crap about it being your fault _stops_, right now, do you understand?"

"Dean, please…!" Castiel's voice tore. "I forced myself onto you… I almost-… Dean, I _raped_ your soul!" He spat it out, as if the word had left a foul taste of shame and disgust in his mouth, but Dean shook him harshly, his anger fueling when the angel had the nerve to close his eyes and avert his face from him.

"You did _not_!"

Dean's hand fisted in Castiel's collar and pulled him closer, his eyes held right in front of Castiel's averted ones.

"You wanna know what the last thing I felt was?" he hissed through gritted teeth, knowing that what he was about to say next would be the first inevitable step towards a confession, but he didn't care. "I felt _your grace_ bleeding together with _my soul _and I'll be damned if it wasn't the most god damn hottest things I've ever felt. You didn't violate me Cas, I _let you in_!"

There was a tiny sound, like a low whine in the back of Castiel's throat and blue eyes widened as they finally made contact with his. Dean met the look from the corner of the angel's eye and something softened inside his chest, because Castiel looked downright terrified.

"So don't you dare pull away from me now." He whispered, almost inaudible. "Don't you even dare, because I need you here with me, Cas, whether you like it or not…"

To prove his point he slowly released his grip of Castiel's wing as he spoke and moved the hand fisted in the other's collar to gently slide along the angel's bared throat and then splay it against the stubbled jaw.

Castiel's eyelids fluttered as Dean's thumb began stroking his chin and the softest of sighs crossed his lips as he slumped his shoulders, leaning into Dean's touch as if it was his own, personal salvation.

"You worry too much…" Dean whispered and for a split second he wasn't sure if he was talking to himself or the angel, but then he moved in and closed the distance by pressing his lips against Castiel's pink ones.

It was so _stupid_. That all it took was for Castiel to distance himself from him to make him realize just how much he wanted... how much he _needed_ this!

Castiel whimpered into his mouth and black feathers were suddenly everywhere when the wings on the angel's back puffed up to almost twice their original size and Dean felt as if he was going to catch fire from the inside out. It was terrifyingly much like being touched by grace, only this fire was entirely his own and it filled him with an intensity that fried every circuit in his brain because of the pure notion that it was _his_. He opened his mouth and groaned, moving his tongue to run tentatively against the seam of Castiel's lips and at the contact the angel gasped, hands shooting up to grip the collar of his shirt and then Cas pulled him closer with a growl that made white spots flash in front of Dean's closed eyes. Their tongues tangled, wet and messy, teeth knocking together and Dean was sure that he was going to combust into flames at any given second, but he _didn't want to stop_ because this was _Cas_ and he was kissing him, actually, really _kissing him_ and angels really shouldn't be this good at kissing, but fuck he didn't want it to stop _ever_! Unfortunately, he was still human, and humans needed to breathe, so Dean was soon forced to release Castiel's lips, giving off an almost obscenely loud pop as he did so and pulled back, noticing with a not so modest sense of pride that the angel was panting hard with his eyes hard shut once again.

"Hey…" Dean groaned, because he sure as hell couldn't talk normally with such a sight in front of him and slowly two slits of vibrant blue opened up to look at him.

"Do you love me?"

It struck him the moment he said it that he had never really heard Cas say it. He had _felt_ it; the warm affection that had flowed in and around him those times when they had exchanged graces, how it had filled him to the brim until he threatened to overflow with it, but he had never _heard_ it. Apparently, Castiel realized the same thing because his eyes went wide and his lips parted in a silent gasp that made Dean's toes curl.

Still, he let the question hang in the air, allowing the seconds to tick by one by one, the time passing between them to the point where Dean almost though the angel wouldn't answer, but then it came, a whisper so quiet that he would have missed it had they not been standing so close.

_I love you…_

Dean felt as if someone had lifted a mountain off his shoulders and before he knew it he was kissing the angel again, this time causing Castiel to groan loudly when he claimed the other's mouth with his tongue. Castiel loved him, and he was here, right here and right now and Dean would be damned if he was ever going to let go of him ever again, but there was still one more thing they needed to settle, still one thing that had to be made right.

"I want it back, Cas." He growled, nipping at the angel's lower lip, hearing from the way the angel's breath hitched that Cas knew exactly what he was talking about. "I don't care if I have to argue about it with you for the rest of my life, but I want it back. I _need_ it back, do you understand me?"

"Dean-…" Castiel tried to speak, but whatever he was about to say got lost between their lips as Dean pushed in for another kiss, swallowed up by the hot press of a tongue against the roof of the other's mouth and Cas whimpered.

"Damn it, Cas…" Dean breathed, "_Give it to me_!" His hand moved up and fisted in black strands of hair and Castiel hands slid down to grip around his shoulders, momentarily fumbling for solace before the one on Dean's left suddenly dipped under the hem of his t-shirt to latch over the hand print still residing on his upper arm and Dean's knees almost buckled as his consciousness without warning immediately flooded over with emotions that was not his own. His body felt as if it was on fire, cobalt blue flames of grace licking along the edges of his soul from the inside out as the bond exploded to life between them once more, humming and singing, and he heard Castiel's voice inside his head, whispering _sorryDeanpleaseImsosorryforg ivemepleasesosorry_ on a loop that didn't seem to have an end. Dean was not sure how he did it, but somehow he managed to smother the voice with a instinctive shift of his mind, drowning the guilt-ridden grace pouring into him in his own lust, desires and –oh god - love, yes _love_ that's what it was and he shoved it through the bond with everything that he had and relished in the way Castiel gasped against his mouth and then groaned breathlessly.

"Fuck, Cas…!" He whispered as he tore himself away from the kiss and instead latched his lips onto the angel's pulse and greedily moved his mouth down the throat. Castiel's fingers curled around his arm, seemingly holding on for dear life in a mix of possessiveness and helpless need and when Dean moved up to suckle at a spot right below his ear he let out a desperate mewl and a full body shudder that Dean could feel reverb throughout his entire being as the restored bond made the pulse run hot in his body, made him feel complete and whole again. He could sense Castiel's grace skirt the edge of his consciousness and he grappled for it, feeling it hesitate. The hand that was currently not wound tight in Castiel's hair instantly wrapped around the angel's waist and pulled him closer and Dean half growled, half whispered hotly into his ear;

"Cas, I want you… stupid son of a bitch, I _want you_."

Then the door suddenly closed with a bang as the grip around his arm disappeared, and instead there were hands against his chest, shoving him away and there was an objecting curse on the tip of his tongue, but it died when he saw the look on Castiel's face.

The angel was standing there, holding Dean off on less than an arms length and he had his eyes still closed, his chest heaving, wings shaking and it was obvious that he was struggling to keep himself under control.

"Dean… Are you sure?"

There were no words to describe the plea in Castiel's voice, and Dean could understand it to the fullest. There was heat surging through the air between them, the desperation bleeding through in tell-tale spots in the way Castiel was begging him to be serious, to not just say things he didn't mean because they both knew now that there was no going back to the way things were once they decided to go through with this.

Dean was silent and counted the pros and cons, went over the arguments in his head for the millionth time, but just like before he came back to the same old place – that no, Castiel was _his_, and he'd be damned if he was going to let something as stupid as sexual labels and past mistakes keep him from taking what he wanted.

"I'm gonna let you in on a secret here, Cas," he said throatily, letting go of the strands in between his fingers and moving his hand down to drape across the angel's neck "and you better pay attention because God help me, I'll only be able to say this once."

Castiel's eyes fluttered open, perhaps from the use of his Father's name or the seriousness in Dean's voice, he couldn't tell, regaining their focus and Dean fought down the nervous twist his stomach made when he met their gaze.

"You are the most infuriating creature that I have ever met." He stated slowly. "You're stubborn as a mule and your vocabulary is a social disaster just waiting to happen. You always disappear in the middle of a conversation; you are unable to understand the simplest of references, you have no concept of common human behavior what so ever and I swear - _on my car_ – that you wouldn't know a joke from an insult even if it came along and smacked you in the back of the head."

As he spoke a frown started taking form on Castiel's forehead and his head slowly tilted to the side, as if asking Dean what kind of a fucked up secret this was if he thought it necessary for Castiel to pay attention for _that_.

"You are all of that," Dean continued, blatantly ignoring the look "but I wouldn't want you any other way because I _love_ you, you dumb son of a bitch - angel quirks and all. You could go set the entire world on fire and I would hunt you down and kick your ass, but it wouldn't change _that_. Not ever."

He rubbed his thumb against Castiel's neck and tried not to think of the way those alien blue eyes were now drilling into his, provoking heat to rise on his cheeks.

"So… That's it." He concluded firmly. "And that's the first and only love confession I'll ever make, so you better remember it because you're not going to hear it again."

Castiel looked at him, his face as serious as had it been carved into stone, but his eyes were that sparkling blue Dean knew, the ones that could wash all his worries away with a single glance and then he nodded once, very slowly.

"I will."

Oh sweet Jesus, how could he possibly make two words sounds so ridiculously hot?

Dean let out something in between a moan and a snarl as he crashed his lips back down upon the angel's and the hand that had been thumbing the nape of Castiel's neck slid down to wrap around their waists once more, pulling them together and the groan Castiel's made at that spread volcano hot heat throughout his veins like wildfire.

A loud gurgle followed by a delighted shriek however, made his eyes snap open, and over the wild, ragged comb of Castiel's wings he saw his brother looking at them with wide eyes and a moronic grin all over his face as if saying 'yeah, way to go there, bro, you show that angel who's boss!'.

Ladies and Gentlemen; Sam Winchester - the world's most efficient mood-killing cock-blocker of all time.

"Cas…" he grumbled into the kiss, pushing at the angel's shoulders, "Hey, c'mon." He tried not to linger on the disappointed sound Castiel made as he pulled away and walked over to the baby on the blanket and he lifted his brother up, nodded for Cas to follow him and then walked back into the house. Castiel was less than two steps behind when he went into the living room and placed Sam in his crib, tucking him in and Sam just looked up at the two of them with big, innocent eyes and Dean turned towards Cas with a discreet cough.

"You got enough mojo for one little spell?" he wondered and for a moment Castiel looked as if he was going to ask what he meant by that, but then he turned to the crib, extended a single, lone finger towards the gaping child and tapped it once lightly against Sam's forehead and the kid fell asleep so fast he didn't even have time to close his mouth.

"It's good to have you back, Cas." Dean grinned widely, and in return he received one of those almost invisible smiles that only showed in the slightly curved corner of the angel's mouth and the sparkle in his eyes. It was a smile that made his lungs draw tight and in a flash he was pulling at the angel's sleeve, leading him down the hallway and into the guestroom, closing the door firmly behind them. When his eyes fell on the big, still unmade bed however, something inside him stirred violently and all of a sudden his hands felt wet and clammy and there was a lump in his throat that he couldn't swallow down even if his life depended on it.

Just like that, it was as if Dean Winchester had never had sex in his entire life. Hell, it was as if he hadn't even watched porn! He just stood there, frozen in place without a clue about how to proceed. Was he supposed to say something? Should they undress? Should they lay down first or should they stand up? He felt as if he was fifteen all over again, only this time it wasn't Patty Simmons from Truman High School who was standing next to him waiting for him to make a move; it was a God damn Angel of The Lord! How the hell were you supposed to undress an _angel_ without making it awkward?!

His hesitation was short lasted however, because suddenly there was a hand on his arm and he was spun around and then he dissolved into Castiel's mouth as the other pressed a kiss against his lips that could have rivaled the force of a hurricane. Before he knew it they were on the bed and it turned out that it was more than easy to slide his hands underneath that stupid, oversized shirt, so _easy_ to drag it off along with that stupid over coat and suit jacket and fling it across the room without barely having to break apart and it was so downright_ simple_ to let Cas do the same to him and when those long fingers skimmed over the skin of his ribs he couldn't for the life of him figure out why he waited so long to let them do this.

Castiel's skin was warm beneath his hands and the hairs on his arms were rough when they rubbed against him. The stubble on his cheek and jaw prickled when they kissed and everywhere Dean was used to smooth curves and satin skin he was now met with sharp angles, firm muscles and a raw, electric force unlike anything he had ever felt before. And it was all good. It was all _right_.

Then all of a sudden Castiel was lying there beneath him on the bed, naked, hard and flushed with spit slicked lips, wild, puffy wings and a haze in his eyes that took Dean's breath away. He sat there with his own jeans still buttoned, straddling the angel's thighs and looked down upon the sight before him with his jaw dropped somewhere by his knees, because holy shit the angel was beautiful. It was a chick-flick word that didn't get used much in Dean's vocabulary, but right now he couldn't think of anything better should he even want to.

He sat there until a soft touch on the back of his hand startled him back to reality and when he looked down the tip of one of Castiel's wings was caressing him slowly.

"Dean?"

He looked up and saw Castiel worried eyes looking back at him and he shook his head.

"I'm fine, Cas. I'm… you're just… damn…"

His eyes slid lower, following the dip from Castiel's torso to his navel, down the fine line of hair that trailed down his abdomen and further until… He swallowed and licked his lips, his stomach clenching tight as his gaze came to a halt on the erection in front of him; the reddened tint of the skin, the slightly curved shape, the course nest of dark hair and the tell-tale shine of moist at the tip…

His hand moved before his mind did, which was probably a good thing because had he given himself time to think about what he was going to do he would never have gotten around to actually doing it and his fingers curled around Castiel's dick and squeezed lightly just below the head and the angel's back arched of the bed with a startled gasp that caught in the back of his throat. Dean's hand moved, the other's reaction bringing forth a confidence he barely would have hoped to find and if the strangled sound coming from Cas' mouth in response was anything to go on, he was doing a pretty damn good job. The weight of Castiel's cock was warm and assuring in his grip, and his thumb moved expertly up and down the length, mimicking the various techniques he knew felt good and Cas was biting his lip to the point of breaking skin, breath coming out in short gusts through his nose as Dean worked the angel closer to orgasm. He could feel the member pulse and tense in his grasp and had this been any other time he would be taking mental notes of where the angel's sweet spots were located, but at the moment he was too focused on the task at hand to pay attention to anything other than the way Cas was shaking and twitching, the way his hips had begun to thrust up into the tunnel of Dean's fist, all the while with his eyes screwed shut and his throat working to swallow down the various sounds Dean suspected he was trying to hold back. However, when Dean swiped the pad of his thumb over the frenulum just below the penis' head Castiel's eyes flew open with a loud moan and then another hand was gripping around Dean's wrist, forcing it to a stop. Dean felt the wing by his free hand slide up along his arm, skidding against the handprint that was raw and puffy on his skin as had it been pressed into his arm just days ago and he trembled when a low thrum reverbed throughout his body at the touch with a faint plea of _'not yet' _sounding in the back of his mind. The second wing rose up and followed it's twin on the other side of his body, ghosting the nape of Dean's neck and making him shudder violently as they both moved down to press against his lower back. Then without as much as warning or even knowledge of how it happened Dean was on his back with a naked angel hovering above him and he strongly suspected that Cas had used some of his now slowly regaining mojo to his advantage because Dean Winchester simply didn't get his position switched that easily! Not that he wasn't going to complain about it, but still…

Castiel was on top of him with oil shimmering wings flared out above them, his chest heaving and his blue eyes blown into dark orbs and Dean simply didn't know where to place his hands first, he only wanted to touch and make Castiel come undone before him, make him moan and whimper with his head tossed back and his eyes screwed shut and fuck he needed them to do this like _yesterday_! Castiel was looking down on him and there was lust shining in his eyes mixed with a love so raw it made Dean's heart ache. How had he possibly come to deserve this?

"You worry too much." Castiel panted and God damnit did his voice sound completely _fucked out_! Then Dean's snarky comment on how the angel was reading his mind and using Dean's own words against him got blown out the window because Castiel's hands were on his crotch, fumbling with the buttons of his fly and Dean swore he would never be able to breathe normally again. However, he quickly concluded that it was simply not right that an angel should be able to display such an eagerness to get into someone's pants and when one of the buttons to his jeans got popped with an angry sound of tearing fabric he let out a startled 'hey!' and wrapped his one leg around Castiel's and rolled them both over, coming out on top once more in a flurry of dark feathers.

"These are my favorite jeans, you ass." he grumbled, grabbing hold of the Castiel's wrists and pinning them above the angel's head – a move Castiel seemed to be enormously startled by and Dean couldn't help but to quirk a brow at him.

"Still down to just human-strength, huh Cassie?" he teased and Castiel frowned at him.

"I would prefer it if you did not call me that." He muttered sourly and Dean laughed, leaning down to nip at the angel's pouting lip.

"Then what should I call you instead?" he asked slyly. "Honey?" he lapped tentatively against the corner of Castiel's mouth. "Sweetie?" he mumbled, moving down to find that soft spot just below the angel's ear that he had discovered out on the porch and teased it with his teeth until Castiel let out a trembling moan against his shoulder.

"Or maybe I should just stick with _Castiel_?" he drawled, letting the syllables of the name drag out into a low, slow growl and he smirked when he felt Castiel's hips snap beneath him in response, not caring that the action left a trail of precum all over his already partially ruined jeans.

"You like it when I say your name like that?" he chuckled.

"I like hearing your voice." the angel breathed and Dean would be wiling to bet anything that he had his eyes closed again. For someone who stared so much normally he sure wasn't relying on sight much when it came to sex. Dean grinned against his neck and experimentally ground his hips down, relishing in the way Castiel's breath hitched when the rough fabric of his jeans rubbed against naked and hard skin.

"I can figure out a lot of things you'll like even more when I'm done." He purred, for a moment ignoring how his heart was about to pound right out of his ribcage along with the fact that he was just as inexperienced at this as the angel. "I'm glad that Bobby's not home yet. It would be a shame if we had to waste your mojo on him too."

"You would feel embarrassed if he knew what we were doing." Castiel's voice sounded a bit offended, but Dean snickered and nibbled at the lobe of his ear.

"I think he would be the one most embarrassed actually… But I don't want to be disturbed by some cranky old man banging on the door telling us to pipe down."

He released one of Castiel's arms and slowly caressed the hand from the wrist down the length of the angel's body, his thumb finding the peak of a hardened nipple where it began drawing lazy circles over the nub and Cas' arched into the touch, his mouth falling open in a gasp. Dean took a moment to thank his lucky star for that reaction, because nipples, yeah he knew how those worked and he abandoned the angel's neck with a slow drag of his teeth against the soft skin above Castiel's pulse before he started licking and nipping his way down over his lover's throat, clavicle and torso.

His finger's pinched over the other nipple experimentally and Cas flinched, but when Dean's lips latched over and started suckling on the left one he dug his heels into the mattress with an appreciative groan. His hips stuttered and thrust up, but Dean's body remained just out of reach for friction and the angel moaned again, a bit more desperate this time as his entire body jerked when the human added a shallow drag of teeth into the equation.

"Dean…!"

Dean snickered, lapping over the bud in quick, shallow swipes that apparently was capable of taking even an angel's breath away before he moved, licking and kissing his way down over the ribs.

"I'm going to take my time with you, angel boy," he whispered against the angel's skin, "And I don't like to hold back when I'm being thorough." The hand that had been toying with the other nipple slid down and came to a rest just above the angel's hip. "I'm going to map you out until I can recite every inch of your body in my _sleep_." He hissed and Castiel gulped down a breath.

"I think… I would like that..." he gasped and Dean let out a growl that would have been downright inappropriate had it been a different situation, but right now his mind was dead set on the task of how to make the angel beneath him _squirm _and he'd be damned if the best he'd be able to wring out was going to be an 'I would like that'.

He suddenly felt like cursing the fact that he was still wearing his jeans and he had to use one hand to prop himself up while he used the other to undo the last buttons of his fly and then proceed to slither out of the offensive garment while looking like a sport jock preparing to do pushups before flinging both jeans and underwear off the bed with a flick of his ankle.

Castiel was watching him through his eyelashes as he made short work of his clothes, looking extremely content with what he saw, and before Dean had time to even settle back down between the other's thighs once more the angel sat up, grabbed him around the waist, dipped his head and Dean was dead, he had to be dead because there was no way this was not his own, personal heaven right there oh god!

Cas' mouth was warm around his cock, his tongue playing over the head and down the vein beneath in a way that was just _evil_ and Dean soon found himself with one hand clutching the other's shoulder to steady himself and the other buried in dark wisps of hair simply to keep himself from passing out. Castiel's head bobbed slowly up and down, taking him deeper with each agonizing dip and nope, no gag reflexes there, none whatsoever and holy shit, holy, holy, holy _shit_…!

"Cas… hold on, you've gotta-... you have to stop or I'm not- Cas… Cas!"

He yanked the angel up by the hair, hearing lips detach with a wet, smacking noise and his other hand shot down, gripping the base of his erection and pinching it so hard he was sure he was going to leave marks, stifling the orgasm that was about to paint the angel's face with a wounded whine that started somewhere low in his gut. A bead of clear liquid rolled down the head and slowly dripped onto his finger, silent evidence on what a close call that had been and when Dean looked up to send the angel a reprimanding glare he was met with a barely-there smirk and a victorious glimmer in blue eyes. Castiel's hand snaked over his thigh and up, fingers gently folding over Dean's wrist and lifting it, bringing the soiled hand up and without warning licked a long, lazy stripe over the precum there before moving on to suckle on the finger with a confidence that definitely shouldn't belong to a virgin angel! Dean stared openmouthed as the tip of that pink tongue swiped out to curl along the length of the digit and then Cas suddenly found himself back on the bed, both hands caught and pressing into the pillow above his head and with Dean's face hovering above him with just faint rim of green around lust blown pupils. Those eyes searched out Castiel's blue ones and once Dean was sure he had the angel's full attention he pressed the hands in his grip even further into the pillow, moving his fingers from around the wrists and up, bending the angel's own into the fabric.

"Don't. Move." He ordered sternly, his stomach flipping violently when something in Cas eyes seemed to spark in response at the words before he sat back up again, trying his darnest not to sound like a needy porn star when Castiel's cock bobbed up to slide against his own length as he moved to sit higher on the angel's thighs. Castiel's hands twitched and clutched around the pillow beneath his head, but he didn't move them from the spot Dean had placed them and when Dean made a few, stuttering jerks with his hips Castiel bit his lip at the brief contact, lifting his pelvis up in search for as much friction as he could possible get, but without succeeding. Dean's hands trailed a slow pattern from the angel's shoulders and down his torso; fingers gently ghosting along the happy trail and all the way down to the nest of hair beneath it before moving back up again, his eyes coming to a halt on the wings that were still lying splayed out, twitching lightly on either side of Castiel's body and that's where Dean now directed his full attention.

Without warning his hands fisted in the delicate feathers just below the arch of both wings and he smiled wickedly when the sound of panicked rustling filled his ears along with a keening whimper and no, Dean was not above the subject of revenge, not by a long shot.

"Yeah, that's one of your hot spots right there, ain't it?" he mumbled slyly as he tugged gently at the quills and he watched with satisfaction how Castiel nodded and rolled his head to the side, letting out tiny gasps of breath into the pillow.

"And I know you just love it when I do _this_." His fingers slowly dragged down the inside of the two wings and finally Castiel made a proper noise, and God, what a _noise!_ Low, guttural and so filled with _need_ it made Dean's dick twitch in between them. He repeated the motion and Cas' hips bucked regardless of Dean's weight being on top of them and Dean couldn't resist rolling his hips down, just once and then twice, three times, four… It felt so good, feeling Castiel's cock slide against the crook of his thigh, smearing precum and making their skin wet and slippery while Dean's own flesh fitted perfectly in the space between Castiel's torso and hip as if their true purpose had always been doing just this. Trusting Castiel to be able to take it he put more of his weight on the wing in his hand, bent down and pressed his lips against the angel's mouth, licking into the heat inside when Cas opened up with an eager moan. It didn't take long for them to find a rhythm, skin pressing against skin and the feeling of tongues sliding in between spit licked lips accompanied by muffled moans and harsh breaths. The world shifted in and out of focus, sometimes with every detail sharp and clear; only existing in the way Castiel's fingers clung to the worn material of the pillowcase and sometimes blurred out in a swaying mix of touch and sound. It was delirious, right down to disorienting and when Dean tightened the grip amongst the downs between his fingers Castiel's entire body dissolved into a series of spasms and convulsions.

"Dean! I-… please, I want you-…inside… Dean, please!"

Dean laughed in spite of himself. Even with his voice completely wrecked in the middle of rough, needy sex, Castiel still insisted on being polite.

"What are you trying to say, Cas?" he smirked, "You have to speak up or I-…"

"_Dean_!"

Castiel's wings actually tried to flip in his hands, hinting that if Dean didn't get his ass into gear right this instant there would be hell to pay, so Dean left his perch above the angel's hips with a final, slow grind before he slipped down and settled between a pair of slender thighs and for the second time that day he felt like a virgin all over again. Cas was panting, eyes glazed over with every fucking thing that had ever been able to make Dean weak in the knees and Dean tried to get his thoughts in a straight line, drawing his composure back together, remembering that there was something they had to do before venturing any further, but he couldn't for the life of him figure out how he was supposed to explain the procedure to Castiel without grossing him out and ruining the mood completely.

"So… I don't think there's any lube in here," he started, glancing around the room, "but maybe there's has something lying around the bathroom we could use?"

"There's no need for preparations." Castiel interjected and rolled over graciously to stand on all fours in front of the hunter while his large wings fanned out and stretched from his back with a satisfied sigh of settling air. Now, as much as Dean could appreciate the sight before him, there was still something about Castiel's reassurance that felt wrong, because surely there had to be lube involved? Was Castiel even aware of what he was saying? What it _meant_?

Castiel let out a frustrated sigh and sent him a matching look over his shoulder.

"I'm an _angel_, Dean. I won't break."

Dean hesitated. He wasn't sure if taking a virgin angel on his word about sex was such a fabulous idea. Sure, the blowjob had been beyond this world, and Dean was absolutely convinced that no other mouth in the history of the world would ever be good enough for him again after that, but this was… different. Dean had enough sexual experience for both of them, but when it came to this particular area he wasn't a hundred percent sure of how to proceed and he didn't want to end up hurting Cas just because they were too impatient to do this right. Still, Castiel was an angel and Dean had seen him injured in ways far worse than anything he could possibly accomplish here, but even though stronger, Cas still wasn't back to his full smiting glory quite yet and there was no telling how much discomfort this could cause him. This was supposed to feel good, for both of them and no matter how okay Castiel told him he was with it, no matter how sexually talented his tongue obviously was, there was just something discomfortingly uneasy about the thought of ramming a dick inside another person without proper lubing that Dean wasn't willing to disregard.

And apparently Castiel was losing his patience, because the look he directed at Dean now was filled with poorly hidden annoyance.

"You perception on virginity is not very correct." He grumbled. "Only because one has not performed the act in it self does not equal that they don't know how it's done. I've been around long enough to know how intercourse works, in every possible way. Your concern is flattering, but not necessary." His voice softened and velvety feathers reached out and ghosted against Dean's arm once more. "Trust me, I would not tell you to do this if it were to cause me pain."

Dean placed a hand on the small of Castiel's back, smoothing out the skin there in a gentle circle. He did trust Cas...

Both his hands splayed over the globes of the angel's ass, gently pulling them apart and kneading them slowly with fingers that were just short of trembling, revealing a furled edge of pink that made Dean's tongue instantly go bone dry inside his mouth. He stilled, panic swelling like the pressure inside a stirred champagne bottle, because holy shit were they really doing this? Was _he_ doing this?! He froze. His heart raced inside his chest and his body locked up, preventing him to move as much as an inch and his grip on the other's body loosened, but Castiel shuddered and pushed back into the touch immediately, his voice a needy growl against the beddings beneath them as he rasped out:

"Dean…!"

Something in Dean's head snapped at the demanding tone of that voice and somewhere he managed to drag out the operational skills is body needed to move and he brought up and quickly licked the palm of his left hand, thinking that saliva would at least be better than nothing at all, before reaching down and gripping around his dick. Fuck, just slickening himself up again was like playing with fire, the memory of Castiel's mouth still too vivid and he let go as soon as he considered himself wet enough. With a slow, shaky breath he straightened up and aligned himself slowly, trying not to act like a fumbling virgin as he moved to press in closer and when the head of his erection slid against the puckered entrance he could feel the impatient shiver that travelled through the frame in front of him reverb throughout his entire body and he closed his eyes, breathing in once deeply before opening them again.

He trusted Cas.

"If it hurts, you let me now and I'll stop, alright?" he whispered hoarsely and Castiel's wings rustled soothingly in response as Castiel dipped his head in between his shoulders in a nod.

"You can't hurt me, Dean…"

The first push made Dean's fingers dig into the angel's sides so hard they were bound to hurt and stars swam before his eyes in flashes of white light from the sheer tightness of it and when he eased himself inside he could hear Castiel's breath hitch and feel him shudder with every inch of engulfed flesh. Sweat broke out on both of their bodies and even though Castiel had ensured him that he could handle it dry, Dean was not totally convinced that he himself was capable of the same feat. The angel was clenching around him, strangling him and he dared not... he could not…

"Cas, keep still. Just… don't move."

Castiel didn't answer, but the dark mess of hair nodded once and Dean's left hand rubbed up soothingly over the dip of the angel's spine and up below the joints of the dark wings by the shoulder blades.

"You've gotta relax for me, man… shit you're so tight…"

Cas nodded again, but it was as if he was just acting on reflex, as if Dean's words were only heard but not understood and Dean realized that there was no way they would be able to do this and make it last at the same time. He leaned forward, trying to avoid putting his weight on the angel's body and somehow managed to snake his arm around the other's waist without disturbing their positions.

"Cas, c'mon… I've got you, okay? Just… I've got you."

When his hand closed around the hardness between Castiel's legs he wasn't sure if the breathless moan that followed came from him or the body beneath him because suddenly he felt the muscles around him clench once and then _give_ and just like that he sank into the heat of Castiel's body like a hot knife into butter. Almost painful pleasure tingled at the base of his spine as he sheeted himself fully and once buried to the hilt it felt as if a single tremor would be enough to make him erupt right there on the spot.

His fingers kept stroking and he let out a relieved sigh when the constricting grip on his cock loosened even further and it was so tight, so hot and he was dying to move, but he had to make sure that Cas was okay first. Castiel was breathing harshly and he shuddered with every twist from Dean's wrist, but he hadn't moved and inch.

"Hey… you alright?"

Cas nodded, breathing out a broken 'yes' into the sheets below. His arms trembled, his feathers were standing up almost obscenely and Dean could feel the twitches his body made when Dean's thumb moved to rub against the spot just below the head of the erection in his hands like he had before and suddenly he realized what the angel was doing and oh… _oh_…

He leaned down even further and pressed his lips loosely against the spot where the dark wings turned into skin between the shoulder blades and Castiel moaned, tossing his head back with a shudder that Dean could feel reverb down into the very bed beneath them and he stilled his movements around the angels erection, but didn't let go.

"God damnit, Cas…" he whispered hoarsely and he could literally feel the boom in the air when Castiel's angel-focus settled on him like some kind of celestial search light. "You want it so badly, don't you?" his lips brushed against skin as he spoke and brought forth another shiver. "But instead you just take it like this, because I told you to stay still for me. As if I had tied you down…" He nuzzled his nose against the dip between the angel's shoulder blades. "Do you like that? Being restrained? Ordered around?" Fuck the thought alone was enough to make his balls tighten and he had to bite down on his own lip when he felt the angel around him jerk as if he had been shot.

"The sensation is-…" Castiel started, but then he swallowed hard, gasping out a breath. "Yes." He managed to grate out. "I do."

"Fuck…" Dean had to rest his head against the other's back, had to concentrate on breathing because an angel with a bondage fetish? _Seriously_?

"Saying things like that could get you in trouble you know…" he whispered, rubbing the head of the member in his hand with the pad of his thumb and Castiel whimpered, but alas he stayed still. "I know you're dying to fuck into my hand right now, Cas… And my guess is that if I hadn't told you not to move, you would be fucking yourself on my cock already, wouldn't you?" He dragged his lips against skin and very deliberately blew into the downs on the base of the wings, listening to the way the feathers above him spiked into attention with a sound as of a million leaves quivering in the wind.

"Wouldn't you?" he repeated, the fingers splayed out on the other's lower back raking lose nails all the way down the curve of his ass and Castiel gasped, body tensing up before twitching violently.

"Yes…!"

Dean hummed, smoothing out the red lines with the palm of his hand.

"Cas…" he whispered, "I'm going to fuck you now... Do you want that?"

"_Yes_!"

Castiel's voice was a broken whisper and Dean kissed both wings gently before straightening up and bracing himself with both hands in a firm hold on Castiel's hips, keeping the angel still as he slowly began to pull out, inch by inch before just as slowly easing himself back in.

It was still tight, but God did it feel good. And hot; blazing like fire, every slow drag of flesh igniting a new spark that flashed brightly behind his eyes and he moaned, not even trying to hide how good it was. He felt Castiel try to move his hips despite Dean's grip around him, but he held the angel in place, keeping the slow pace he had set up.

"You're not moving fast enough." Castiel all but growled at him and Dean took the opportunity to slap the angel's ass for the discourtesy.

"Shut up, angel boy." He breathed. "I said I'd take my time." He shifted his legs, giving him a better stance on the wiggly bed, ignoring the offended huff he got in return.

"I assure you that it is not necessa -…!" The rest of Castiel's sentence ended in a single, very audible groan and Dean stilled, convinced that he had gone too fast and hurt him in spite of the angel's previous pretension.

"Cas? Cas, you okay?"

Castiel raised his head and looked back at him over his shoulder, eyes blown wide with startled wonder.

"That-… What did you-…?"

Realization grew in Dean's head in time with the smile on his face and he moved his hips back and forth just like he had only seconds ago, feeling a victorious surge when Castiel's eyes fluttered shut and his fists grappled at the sheets below his head.

"You mean that?" he asked sweetly and Castiel nodded frantically in response.

"Oh that…" The hands that had been holding on to Castiel's hips released their grip and moved to caress the curve of the angel's ass and then returning to smooth up along the muscles of his back. "You're the expert on putting people's bodies back together." He teased. "You should know what that is, don't you think?"

Once again the angel's head moved in a nod and Dean smirked.

"Good."

And then his hands dug into the wildly ruffled quills at the lower half of Castiel's wings and he snapped his hips forward in one forceful motion, almost pushing the angel head first into the mattress.

"Oh go-…!" Castiel choked around the last word, biting down on the blasphemy that threatened to leave his mouth and Dean groaned because making an angel loose it enough to take the Lord's name in vain was just– needless to say - hot as hell.

"You liked that, huh?" he mused, but Cas barely had time to nod before he was pulling out and slamming back in, and this time Castiel actually – holy fuck – buried his face against his own shoulder to muffle the sounds coming from his mouth and that was _it_.

Slow wasn't part of the plan anymore – hell, it wasn't even an existing word. Dean's hips were moving on their own, quick and ruthless and Castiel's hands clawed against the sheets for something to hold on to and all it took was a few frantic thrusts for everything to reduce into just breath, sweat and blissful pleasure.

Castiel slumped down onto his elbows with the side of his face pressed against the mattress, sliding back and forth in time with the thrusts and through the haze Dean could see that Castiel had his eyes blissfully screwed shut while his fingers flexed desperately against the sheets. There was another movement too, an almost invisible forming of lips and at first Dean though it was nothing, just movements caused by pants and moans but then he realized that they were words, and soon after he found that they not words as much as they were _a_ word, breathed over and over like a prayer.

Dean.

_Dean, Dean, Dean, Dean, Dean…_

Oh, that was hot. That was _insanely_ hot.

Dean's hands tugged the feathers he held on to once hard before letting go, then he leaned forward and hooked his arms under the base of the wings and pulled the angel up against his own torso, making him yelp with surprise and arch his back in a long, gracious bow when the new position brought Dean even further inside, filling him to the core.

"Fuck, Cas, don't hold out on me." Dean growled into the feathers that were suddenly surrounding him, twitching and rustling with each thrust he made. "I want to hear everything that comes out of your mouth, you understand?"

"Dean…!"

"_Everything_, Cas. Shit-…!"

The fire that had been building in his gut was flaring up his spine in hot, sweet licks and he wasn't sure if he was burning or freezing with the way he was shaking and sweating. He wasn't going to last long, he could feel the climax building stronger even now, but he wasn't about to leave Castiel as runner up in this so he released one of the wings and brought the arm around and gripped Castiel's hard on like he had before and began stroking it purposefully. Just like that it was as if someone had ripped an invisible gag from Castiel's mouth and the words came tumbling forth, tripping over each other in a jumble of syllables and broken sentences in their hurry to get out.

"Oh…! Oh that's-… Oh Dean… _Dean_!"

Castiel's voice was rough, hoarse and gravelly. It was a voice made for sex, for moaning and shouting in breathless cries and that's exactly what it was doing right now, each and every sound adding to the cracks in Dean's already faltering defenses. Castiel was meeting his thrusts, grinding down eagerly every time Dean's hips pistoned up and Dean was almost too far gone to notice that the angel wasn't even speaking pure English anymore.

"Dean… ye-… p-please… oh, please… Dean... oh Dean, there… _In hoath_ _oi quasahi_, oh yes- _there_…!"

The foreign words made the hair on Dean's entire body stand up, an electric surge filling the air as they moved together and it built, soaring through every fiber of his being as the rhythmic thrust of his hips began to falter. The wet slap of skin against skin was intoxicating, making his head spin and he leaned it against the angel's back, kissing the sweat damp skin between the shoulder blades, lapping at the salty moisture and trailing his lips and tongue along a strong curve of feathers before sucking one of them into his mouth, making Castiel's head toss uncontrollably. The arm that had been hooked under the base of the left wing slid lose, dipping around and tightening around the angel's torso instead, fingers searching and finding the hardened peak of a nipple, brushing against it and Castiel mewled helplessly in response to the feathery touch. Then suddenly Dean's breath got stolen out of his chest when _something_ nudged against his mind, like the gentle stroke of a hand and he stilled, unable to move as much as an inch because oh… oh god, oh…!

"Cas?" he breathed and the sensation was repeated, making Dean's finger's twitch against the angel's chest. "Is that-?" He choked down a moan when it happened again, with more force this time and shit, holy shit, oh fuck…!

Castiel's grace seemed to slot up against Dean's soul with a eager hum and Dean could feel it move, shifting and curling around the edges of his consciousness with a gentle yet insistent pressure, moving with the rhythm of his heartbeat and making his body thrum and vibrate with anticipation. The handprint on his arm tingled and throbbed along with his pulse as the bond flared up brighter than he had ever felt it before and he realized through the haze that this was it. After this there would be no turning back; he would be bound soul to grace with an angel, forever and always beyond Death and Hell and Heaven and everything that might come after that. His arm tightened its grip when Castiel's right wing flipped violently, almost making him lose his balance and in that moment, with the heat of Castiel's body pressing against his and the wave of climax building fast, Dean's soul stirred, shifted and opened up.

Fire, hot and sweet drowned his senses, making his body quake and there was no need for air anymore as his hips snapped, causing them both to cry out loudly. Castiel's grace coursed through him, filling him up and he could feel the strength coiling just beneath the surface of it, the desperate need, the desire and unfathomable love and he felt _Castiel_, this enormous, unrestrained _power_ and he knew that his mouth was moving, but he had absolutely no idea of what he was saying, or if the sounds rolling off his tongue were even proper words. Then the flow of grace changed, became focused to a point just behind his temples and Dean heard Castiel's whimper inside his head before it reached his ears, like some sort of telepathic delay as Castiel rolled his hips, snapping Dean back to the rapid rising and falling of the angel's chest beneath his hand and to the warm sweat glistening on the nape of the neck before his eyes just a split second before he felt the angel shake and then lock up around him, Castiel's head falling back, lips parted in a silent scream and then the world around them literally _exploded_. The glass pitcher standing on the bedside table cracked from the bottom up and then shattered into a million pieces, spreading glass and water throughout the entire room. The windows chinked and then blew out seconds later and a mute pang followed by a jingle from downstairs notified Dean that the big mirror in the hall was now but a glistening heap on the carpeted floor in the study. The walls rumbled and the vibrations as from a pending earthquake shook the room, fiery hot grace enveloping them both and forcing Dean to close his eyes while the angel's climax whited out _everything_. He could feel it surround him, move against him and burn his skin like the flutter of lips all over his body and when Castiel's cock twitched and then spilled warm, sticky substance all over his hand there was no holding back and he came, pulling the other's convulsing body possessively against his own while he thrust up, pumping his release into the angel above him while burying his own hoarse scream amongst midnight feathers.

They slumped down onto the mattress, falling on their sides in a blissful, boneless heap and Castiel's mind let out a pulse of pouting loss when Dean slid out of him and rolled over to his side, eyes still firmly closed and waiting for the last pulsating glow to disappear from the other side of his eyelids.

"That… That was…" Castiel obviously wasn't ready to speak yet because he just let out another low moan and instead Dean felt his chest fill with an alien, warm, fuzzy feeling of pure content that wasn't part of his own, and he scowled.

"Are you using telepathy on me?" he asked incredulously and in return he felt Castiel's grace give his soul an affirmative little nudge.

"So… this is how it's going to be?" He reached out for the feeling of Castiel that was pressing against his mind. "Am I always going to feel what you're thinking?"

"No." Castiel almost seemed amused at the though. "The bond is very raw at the moment. It will fade into a more manageable state in a few days."

"Oh." Dean curiously trailed mental fingertips over the new, lit up spot inside his mind and smirked when Castiel let out a low chuckle next to him as if the touch tickled.

_Don't play with it, Dean._

Dean immediately pulled his mind back where it belonged, but he could still Castiel's amused smile light up the bond with its faint glow. Outside the busted windows there was a sudden flash, followed by a sharp rumble and then rain began trickling down from the sky, staining the floorboards just beneath the windowsill with thick droplets.

"Bobby's gonna kill you…" Dean mumbled drowsily, failing to hold back a smile of his own.

There was a low rustle and Dean knew from the surprise pushing against his mind that Castiel was looking around the room for the first time since they finished, Dean's words drawing his attention to its current state.

_Oh…_ The angel's thoughts sounded almost sheepish and Dean snorted out a laugh.

"Yeah. That about covers it." He sat up; suddenly remembering that even though the windows had been blown outwards there was still an entire pitcher that had downright exploded right next to them. He looked down at the bed, prepared to wince at all the glass he was sure to find lying all around them, but the sheets were completely glass free. On closer inspection it turned out that everything within a six feet radius was squeaky clean, a perfect circle of undisturbed territory that without a doubt had been caused by the grace Castiel had released into the space.

"Dude," he breathed out, almost revering. "We better do something about those lungs of yours or we're gonna have to gag you." To make his point clear he sent the mental image of a bright red gag ball in the angel's direction and Castiel gave him a wide eyed, somewhat appalled look in return.

"I did not think it would be that intense." He assured him, pushing the image firmly aside. "I was trying to hold back." He then added thoughtfully.

"_This_ was _holding back_?" Dean gaped and both Castiel's shoulder and mind shrugged simultaneously in response, making Dean slump back against the headboard with a breathy chuckle. Castiel followed his example and settled onto his stomach on the bed, his arms folded beneath his head and his wings spreading out in a long stretch, as if they were yawning before folding them in over his back like the world's fluffiest comforter. Dean noted with a pang of mixed guilt and possessiveness that some of the feathers were angled almost painfully wrong and he reached out his hand in a quick attempt to smooth them down, but without result. He tried again, but with the same outcome and as if sensing Dean's abashment Cas slowly and without a word extended the large appendage to drape over Dean's lap, giving the hunter full access to the problem area and Dean proceeded to pluck with the feathers and realigning them, the bond sending out a pleased hum in return. When Cas let out a content sigh into the crook of his arm along with the vague, fluttery sensation of 'happy' through the bond Dean halted in his ministrations and shot him a suspicious look.

"Hey." He jabbed at the other's calf with his foot. "This is not some form of freaky post-angel-sex-cuddling, is it?" he demanded and Cas opened a single, sleepy eye and looked at him, then at the hands currently tangled in his wing and then back at Dean once more.

"No." he answered simply and then he closed his eyes again, nuzzling deeper into the folds of his own arms with another sigh and even though the bond in the back of Dean's mind immediately betrayed that statement by whispering a very insistent 'yes' instead, Dean decided to overlook it.

Just this once.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

**Even Dean can take a little cuddling on his "wedding night", don't you think? ;)**

**So Cas and Dean are doing good it seems, but Sammy is still a little baby, remember? And what will Bobby say about his house now being window-less? And I wonder what else this new, improved Profound Bond is capable of…? I bet Dean is just itching to test it out…. ;)**


	12. Chapter 12

The first thing Dean notices when he wakes up is that there's something warm pressing up against the entire left side of his body, the pleasant heat seeping into his skin like liquid fire. The second thing is the realization that there is something equally warm, yet incredibly soft splayed out over the rest of him and when he opened his eyes his vision filled with an inky black that immediately had him snapping his head up, confused panic and a horrible sense of not knowing where he was rushing in only to be chased away immediately by the soft touch of fingers against his upper arm and a soothing caress to the inside of his head.

_Give it a minute... _

Castiel's voice was like a whisper within his mind and when he looked to the side he was met with the calming, half lidded blue of the angel's eyes.

_Oh._ The thought travelled through the bond before he even had the time to figure out how to do it and Castiel closed his eyes with a content sigh, the corner of his mouth twitching up in a smile. Dean could feel the other's amusement trickle through the psychic link like a miniature waterfall and he blinked dumbly, his mind sorting through the memories of the past hours that the sensation of Castiel's consciousness moving against his sent rushing back.

_I fell asleep,_ he grunted through the bond and he felt Castiel's mirth give way for silent confirmation.

_You did._

Dean looked at his wrist, realizing too late that his watch was lying upstairs on the sink where he put it the night before.

_What time is it? _He grumbled, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

_Almost four in the afternoon._ Castiel answered and Dean squinted his eyes open.

_I slept the entire day?!_

_Your body needed the rest._

Dean tried to sit up higher, but without much success and he slowly shifted his eyes from the male by his side to the large, feather clad limb that was draped heavily over their bodies like a giant comforter before he raised a quizzical brow which Castiel answered with a mental shrug.

_You were cold,_ he explained simply and Dean's eyebrow shot up even higher, his hand slowly lifting the wing up to reveal the spot where Castiel's arm was firmly circled around his waist and Castiel's eyes opened to give him a challenging look from underneath dark eyelashes.

"Let me remind you that you fell asleep while petting me like abnormally large cat. All your arguments are invalid."

"I did not-" Dean's protest was immediately cut short by Castiel's memory of himself dozing off with his hands slowly stroking down the oil colored feathers and he immediately shut his mouth again, trying his best to ignore the triumphant surge he got from his bedmate in return.

_Not a word,_ he warned silently and Castiel's mouth curled into a smirk.

_Of course_.

The hand around his torso slowly moved down to trace nimble fingers over the jut of his hip, the angel's thumb swiping back and forth to just barely grace the edge of coarse pubic hair and the mirth coming from the angel's mind quickly morphed into a more goal oriented interest.

_I thought angels were supposed to be all about sexual abstinence? _Dean teased and Castiel snorted, a flicker of distain cutting through the angel's focus.

_Those rules were manmade by the men of the clergy, _he explained, the hand on Dean's hip dipping even further down. _Heaven had nothing to do with them._

_Yeah… I can see that…_ Dean licked his lips when Castiel's hand brushed against his dick and he wasn't sure if the sudden wave of arousal he felt at that came from him or the angel at his side, but his penis twitched expectantly beneath the touch nonetheless and Dean sucked in a sharp intake of breath when Castiel's fingers began tracing the inside of his thigh.

Fuck, this had to be the strangest morning after he had ever experienced in his life. Not only was the naked person feeling him up a _male_ _angel_, but also a male angel whom Dean currently shared a two lane, mindreading connection with and at the moment he couldn't decide if it was the sensation against his skin or his mind that was making his heart race and his blood to run hot in his veins the way it did.

Of course he had expected this entire day to be beyond awkward, hell, he had counted on it, but instead everything felt so laid back and normal, as if he had always woken up to rough, calloused hands roaming his body and low, gravelly words being whispered inside his head. It was as if Castiel was the last piece of a puzzle that had been missing for ages and now the image was finally complete, clear and Dean found that there was nothing, absolutely _nothing_ about this situation that made him feel uncomfortable, or even embarrassed. So apparently he was gay for an angel. Damn it, he was fucking _married_ to an angel, and he knew that he should be freaking out about it, knew that freaking out had _definitely_ been on the agenda less than twelve hours ago, but… right now he couldn't for the life of him remember why.

After all, since when had the prospects of morning sex ever been a reason to freak out?

He was ripped out of his building state of arousal however, by a low buzzing originating from the floor on the other side of the room and Castiel's mind glowered annoyance at the sound when Dean's unspoken question was sourly answered that the interruption came from the cell phone residing inside his jeans' pocket.

_It's been doing that for almost an hour_, the angel grumbled, the teasing flutter of his fingers never ceasing to move against Dean's skin.

"An _hour_?" Dean asked incredulously, ignoring the disapproval of the angel's mind as he moved to regrettably untangle himself from the other's hands, legs and wings. The phone was his private one, and if that one was ringing he very much wanted to know why.

"It's only Bobby." Castiel objected as the hunter stood up, pulled the sheet high around his waist and carefully padded through the chilly room – Cas had the natural body heat of a lit furnace so he didn't need any covers anyway – carefully stepping over the broken glass on the floor until he could get a hold of his jeans and pull the buzzing cellphone out.

"The bigger reason to answer." he pointed out just before flipping the cell open and bringing it to his ear. "Hi, Bobby." He then greeted into the device, hearing Bobby snort loudly on the other side of the line in response.

"Well, well, look who decided to pick up the phone. What the hell were you doing, I've been trying to get hold of you all day?"

Dean ran a hand over his face, rubbing the last lingering traces of sleep out of his eyes.

"Yeah, I was sleeping, didn't hear the phone… So what's up? Where are you?"

"I'm just north of Sioux City, close to Elk Point heading up 29. I'll be in Sioux Falls in little over an hour."

"Oh, so you're coming home?" Dean sent a nervous look over his shoulder at Castiel and then at the chaos that used to be Bobby's guest room. "That's great."

"Don't sound so thrilled," Bobby grumbled. "I'm just calling to tell you that I'm stopping by the supermarket on the way to buy food since I take it that the two of you haven't left the house all week. Got any idea what we might need?"

"Oh, uhm… you better stock up on basically everything. The pantry's kind of… empty."

"Empty?" Bobby asked slowly and Dean pinched the ridge of his nose.

"Yeah, uh, long story. Just, buy some more beer and something for dinner and we can fix the rest tomorrow."

_We need more milk and diapers for Sam,_ Castiel informed him and Dean nodded, repeating the message into the phone.

"I'll get on it." Bobby confirmed. "So how are things with you? Sam's obviously still in need of diapers and I take it you and Feathers are both alive?"

"We're good Bobby." Dean assured him.

"Oh…" Bobby seemed to mull the information over for a few seconds. "As in just good or… _good_?"

"I'm still breathing, aren't I?" Dean sighed. Really, he wasn't very keen on explaining how it had all gone down through the phone, or any other way for that matter. Luckily Bobby seemed to accept his answer, his voice losing some of the roughness as he continued.

"I have to admit, boy," he said silently, "you sound a whole lot calmer than I thought you would."

"Well, you and me both." Dean admitted.

"I see… well, congratulations then, I guess." Bobby offered and Dean swore he could hear the other's smirk all the way through the phone.

"Thanks." He rolled his eyes to the ceiling.

"You're welcome." Bobby shot back. "See you in about two hours. And I better not find any suspicious stains on my furniture when I get back!"

"Bobby!"

"You defiled an angel of the lord in my house; you have no right to be prude."

"Bite me."

"I'd rather not. Your new boyfriend is a scary fellow and I wouldn't want to make him jea-."

Dean hung up before the old geezer could finish the sentence.

"Bobby's coming home." He announced with a sigh, even though he knew that Castiel already was aware of this. "Looks like we have some work to do." He turned around to give the angel a pointed look over his shoulder, swallowing down a rush of heat when he realized that the angel was lying still completely naked, defiantly sprawled out in the middle of the bed where Dean left him, wings and hair lightly ruffled from not-really-sleep and Dean would have given anything to keep Bobby away from the house for just a few more hours, but sadly, they had a lot of things that needed to be taken care off.

"Like what?" the angel gruffed and Dean cleared his throat, throwing his arms out to the rest of the room, gesturing towards the broken glass and flapping drapes by the busted window.

"I don't think Bobby's gonna like coming home to this." He pointed out and in return he received an annoyed pulse of grace as Castiel's wings puffed up indignantly.

"Why?"

"_Why_? " Dean choked out. "Cas, have you _looked_ at this place? And correct me if I'm wrong but the hallway outside looks very similar to this doesn't it?"

"Maybe." Castiel answered sourly, but Dean caught a glimpse of the chaos when the angel's mind made a quick dip outside the room to evaluate the situation.

"Yeah, just like I thought." He smirked and Castiel glared at him. "Now get your ass up and help me clean all this glass away. And we need to find something to cover up the window with until we can buy a ne-"

A loud chinking sound from behind him cut him off and when he turned around the window glass was once again sitting firmly in its place in the window frame and the floor around his feet was squeaky clean and glass free. The pitcher and glass were standing peacefully on the bedside table and on the mattress Castiel was glaring at him defiantly.

"Wow…" Dean looked around, taken a bit off guard. "Well, that's convenient." He commented.

"Undoubtedly." Castiel answered. "Can you please come back here now?"

"Did you fix the hallway too?" Dean pointed at the door and Castiel's consciousness immediately made some sort of evasive pull and Dean was about to go after it when there was a loud cling and the water filled pitcher cracked by the handle and water began trickling down onto the wooden surface of the table below.

Castiel's eyes flickered towards the liquid and then back to Dean and then down to the pillow at his side and Dean raised an eyebrow at him.

"Missed a spot?" he asked teasingly and Cas wings pulled in tighter.

"Technically." He sneered.

"Yeah, nice try." Dean picked up the angel's clothing from the floor and tossed them at him and Cas caught them singlehandedly in the air with a huff.

"Now get up and I'll teach you how fix things in the old fashion, human way."

_I only need a minute._ Castiel's mind protested loudly.

_Save it hot wings, you're not fit for fighting just yet._

_Hot wings?_

Castiel's annoyance got mixed with subtle confusion and Dean felt a light flush creep up his neck.

_Yeah… like… you know… since the wings and… uh…_

The angel's head tilted to the side, frown deepening.

"Fried chicken?" he asked and Dean winced.

"No, not fried chick- if you're gonna pick my brain then would you at least do it _right_?"

Castiel snorted and began sorting out the heap of clothing Dean had thrown his way, pulling the garments on one by one with twitchy movements accompanied by agitated flicker of his wings. A few feathers whirled up and landed on the white sheets, like silent yet very apparent witness to the angel's disapproval.

Dean bent down and pulled on his own boxers, and was just about to put on his jeans when a particularly hard shove against his mind made him straighten up and send an amused glance at the angel by the bed.

_Dude, are you _sulking_? _ He laughed through the link and Castiel wings rose up defiantly and something swatted at Dean's thoughts, like a mental thwack over the head.

"What?" Dean chuckled. "It's not like there wont be time to… you know… later."

When Castiel sent a half intrigued, half still glaring look his way Dean simply wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at him, earning another lowering snort, but the looming cloud that hovered over the bond lightened up slightly.

"Hey," Dean made his way back to the bed and climbed in, walking on all fours over the tangled sheets until he could nudge his shoulder playfully against the angel's back. "It's just some glass and a few light bulbs. We'll be done in no time, even without angel mojo." He sat up, moving in to snake his arm firmly around Castiel's still naked torso, hesitating for just a moment before leaning in to spread a pattern of feathery light kisses against the angel's neck until he felt the muscles beneath his hand relax and heard the silent exhale of air fall from the angel's lips.

"C'mon…" he mouthed against the shell of the other's ear. "Sammy needs his lunch and if Bobby starts yelling at us for thrashing his house we won't be able to catch a break for the rest of the night."

Castiel grumbled something deep down in his throat, tilting his head just a little to the side, allowing Dean's mouth better access and Dean could feel the light shudder that travelled through the bond when Dean complied, breathing in the scent of heat and rain that lingered upon the angel's skin.

"Please?" Dean urged, his second hand coming up to join the other, dragging loose fingers over Castiel's abs and the angel let out another sound that could have been a chuckle if it hadn't sounded so breathless.

"Your methods of persuasion are very contradictive…" he hummed and Dean chuckled silently against the small hairs at the base of Cas' neck.

"Doesn't really matter as long as they work."

Castiel's body slumped back even further, his head coming to a rest heavily upon Dean's shoulder and he sighed, staring up at the ceiling as if it was to blame for his new dilemma.

"Does the human way take long?" he muttered eventually.

"Not really…" Dean mumbled, nuzzling closer to the angel's ear. "If we start now we might even get a good forty minutes before Bobby gets home."

Castiel closed his eyes.

"Forty minutes sounds… reasonable." He decided and Dean nodded.

"One can do a lot in forty minutes." he agreed and this time the sound coming out of the angel's mouth was absolutely a chuckle and Dean answered it by giving the angel a final, firm kiss on the side of his neck before straightening up.

"So get your ass into gear," he gave Castiel a push, forcing him to sit back up straight before he moved away, returning to the task of getting dressed. "We've got mirror shards to pick out of the wall in Bobby's study."

Castiel groaned, but stood up from the bed nonetheless.

"The human way is infuriatingly tedious." He declared sourly as he pulled on his shirt and began buttoning the cuffs and Dean laughed, shaking his head.

"Sorry dude, but until your batteries are charged it's the only game in town." He adjusted his t-shirt and then took three quick steps to the other side of the bed and pressed a quick, almost chaste kiss against the angel's lips.

"So stop whining and put your back into it." he grinned before disappearing out the door with a wink.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Luckily they didn't have to do much 'the human' way, given that Castiel was still capable of performing minor miracles as long as he did them one at a time and allowed himself a few minutes of rest in between the tussles. The hallway mirror had to be done in several turns, but it was soon puzzled back together and the small marks and scratches on Bobby's desk that had been caused by the explosion were quickly remedied, even though Dean suspected that a few more blemished wouldn't make much of a difference to the old man.

Sam woke up from his still grace induced sleep when Dean managed to locate the busted light bulb from the desk lamp with his foot and once Dean stopped cursing and Sam stopped crying Cas had healed the bleeding limb with a quick tap of his finger along with a lingering touch to Dean's shoulder that caused a lopsided grin to form on the hunter's lips.

At first it was a bit confusing to have Castiel's thoughts buzzing around inside your head, but after a few hours the chaotic storm of feelings, thoughts and conversations smoothed out into a glassy stream where the different components layered on top each other, making them easier to define. Dean had however been caught by surprise when he found that the new, enhanced bond did not only transmit Castiel's thoughts and feelings, but that it also conveyed all these things with the occasional burst of colors, images and even flavors. For example, the word 'friend" immediately conjured up the image of Sam reaching out his hand in greeting with an excited smile on his face, 'home' seemed to be associated with dark leather and the metallic taste of exhaust fumes, while 'joy' was followed by the color green and the unmistakable smell of Dean's own shampoo. When Dean pointed this out Cas informed him that even though Dean's thoughts usually tasted like apple pie and hot coffee, they tasted hot and smoky and had the dark, golden color of whiskey when they made love, making Dean's ears grow red and his cheeks burn hot with embarrassment at the angel's sentimental choice of words.

_Why?_ Castiel asked, his back turned towards him while he arranged the books in Bobby's bookshelf on the other side of the room. _You feel the same way._

_It's just… calling it that makes it sound so… I don't know, cheesy._ Dean objected, and Castiel's confusion immediately lit up the link between them.

_What does cheese have to do with anything?_

_No, Cas, not cheese; _cheesy_. As in stupid or silly._

_You prefer the term 'fucking' then._ Castiel decided soberly, as if they were discussing their preference of food and Dean shrugged, biting his lip while fiddling with the lid to one of Sammy's food jars.

_Yeah, fucking, sleeping together, having sex, whatever. Making love is something-… _

…_married people do?_ Castiel finished with a smile and Dean rolled his eyes to the ceiling.

_Alright smarty-pants, you got me there. Why are we even discussing this by the way, I can feel that you already know what I mean. _

_Curiosity._ Castiel shrugged, then he squinted, the tip of his finger running over the broken spine of an old, ragged book, immediately repairing it._ I think I like that word as well._ He concluded. _Fucking… _

You _like the word _fucking? Dean asked with a hinged brow, finding the thought of a holy creature like an angel throwing around an expression like that highly contradictive.

_Yes. _Castiel turned to shoot him a dirty look over his shoulder. _I like it,_ he added and Dean's gut pulled tight when Cas followed the statement up by sending a dark, pulsating and very graphic request for them to engage in this type of activity again soon.

_I've created a monster,_ Dean chuckled, shaking his head and the angel snorted.

_You make it sound like it's a bad thing? _

_Nah, this is one monster I think I could get used to._

Castiel's mind flickered amusement at him and then pulled away to focus on repairing the broken desk light while Dean poured the jar of puréed carrots into a bowl and fetched a spoon from the kitchen to feed Sam.

For once Sammy actually ate his lunch without giving Dean a hard time about it and then Dean spent a good thirty minutes walking around with the small child in his arms, attempting to make him go back to sleep while Castiel repaired the last cracks in the kitchen windows. Apparently, from what Dean had been able to pluck out of the angel's head the force released when graces merge is more than enough to level an entire neighborhood with the ground, and even though the effect had been lessened by the fact that Dean had a soul and not actual grace, Dean suspected that Castiel had done a very good job holding a lot of the destruction back, just like he claimed.

"Talk about rocking someone's world, hey Sammy?" Dean mumbled and Sam's head lolled back to look up at him with those usual, wide, innocent eyes that made Dean feel like he was having a conversation with one of those bobble-head toys on the dashboard of a car.

"I guess owe you a thank you for that." He added. "If you hadn't gone and gotten your large ass whopped by some monster-chick none of this would have happened."

Sam's brow knotted together in a confused frown that made Dean's gut pang, remembering the puppy-dog look his brother used to throw at him when he wanted Dean to talk about his emotions and he sighed, thinking that oh, what the hell.

"Alright…" he cleared his throat. "I don't know how much you're going to remember from all of this later…Once you get back to your normal, gigantic self, I mean." He looked at the child in his arms. "You know this angel-marriage-thing with me and Cas… I can only imagine that you're going to throw a big, moral hissy fit about it later, with the whole angel versus human deal." He threw a quick glance into the kitchen at the angel in question, but Castiel's mind was still focused on the task of fixing the window so he turned back to his brother, lowering his voice into a whisper. "Just… I know how crazy it sounds, and believe me, a month ago I would have told myself to get a grip and snap out of it, but, and god help me for saying this, I actually think this could work, you know?"

In his arms Sam made a low gurgling sound, one of those small hands coming up to clutch the sleeve of Dean's shirt while the other took a turn into his tiny baby mouth, eyes still as wide as before and Dean grimaced.

"Don't give me that look. How many other people do you know who gets to have an angel for a brother-in-law?"

Sam gave a high pitched shriek and turned around, straining his neck to catch a glimpse of Castiel inside the kitchen and then he did a loud smacking noise before turning back around with a happy gurgle, patting Dean excitedly on the shoulder and leaving small handprints of drool on his clothes.

"Couldn't have said it better myself." Dean agreed and Sam responded by burping loudly.

"Yeah, you're a real charmer." He walked up to the crib, putting his younger brother down and Sam immediately rolled over to his stomach and grabbed hold of his teddy bear, pulling it close and burying his face in it while Dean looked on, leaning his elbows against the wooden railing.

"It's kind of weird, you know," he said quietly and Sam's attention was immediately pulled from the toy in his hands to his older brother's face.

"Normally, when something like this happens - something good I mean - I would freak out. Because that's not know things work, not for us. We don't get to have nice things like family and friends and…" He trailed off, plucking a little with the cuff of his shirt, trying not to think about that he was about to confide himself to someone who hadn't even learnt how to digest a solid diet yet.

"But this thing…" he continued, "For the first time, I'm _not_ worried, and that's… new. I mean, just think about it; how many times haven't Cas died already only to bounce right back again? It's like a freaking sign or something; like he's _supposed_ to be here …" he sighed, rubbing his eyes. "I don't know, maybe I'm overthinking this. The whole grace-thing scrambling my brain… but that's what it feels like right now, and I'm cool with it, you know? I'm not saying that being married to an angel isn't something that's gonna give me the jeebies from time to time, but, fuck I can deal with that. It's not like our lives were shaped to fit the white picket fences and apple pie way of life anyway…"

"Would you like a picket fence?"

Dean's heart almost came flying straight out of his chest when Castiel's voice sounded from right behind him and he whirled around, finding the angel standing less than a few feet away, his head curiously tilted to one side and a little smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

"Because I could make you one if it's of importance." He declared solemnly, the serious act completely ruined by the amused shiver of wings and bright mirth fluttering through the bond that followed the statement.

"Eavesdropping is usually considered rude, you know." Dean quipped and Castiel's wings gave another mirthful twitch.

"Eavesdropping is usually easier to avoid when one's not constantly connected to another's mind." The angel reminded politely and Dean rolled his eyes to the ceiling, muttering a few well chosen words inside his head.

"And that's not a very nice thing to say." Castiel reprimanded and then added with a smirk; "Even though the grandiose size of male genitalia is something you humans seem to consider a valuable feature."

"You know that's not what that means right?" Dean asked and Castiel nodded.

"I picked up on that too, yes."

"Well…" Dean looked the angel up and down, taking a sauntering step forward. "I admit it's not a complete lie…" he mused. "Who would have known _that_ was hiding underneath all those layers of clothes?" He underlined his words by grabbing hold of the other's belt loops, pulling the angel in closer and Castiel followed obediently, leaning to the side when Dean moved in to nuzzle against his neck. Dean's stomach made a small flip when he heard the angel let out a soft sigh in response, the still sensational feeling of being allowed to have the other so close making him feel slightly lightheaded. Could he have this? Like, really have it and keep it?

_Of course you can,_ Castiel whispered inside his head and Dean's grip tightened around the other's body, as if he was afraid that Cas might pull away in spite of his words.

_You really think so?_ He asked and Castiel's hand came up to brush soothingly against his arm.

_I told you a long time ago that good things _do_ happen._ Nimble fingers moved up to run feathery light strokes up his neck and Dean shuddered, allowing the other to lift his head and turn it so that he was looking into the angel's eyes.

_And this is a good thing, Dean, whether you believe it or not._

_Well, who can argue with that?_ Dean smiled and Cas answered by pulling his chin down and planting a firm kiss right on his lips which Dean only needed half a second to reciprocate. Castiel's mind was open, moving against his like liquid, electrified silk, giving of the sensation very much like the one the dark feathers had the very first time Dean had laid hand on them. It was a very strange way of kissing, strange in Dean's opinion being the same as 'awesome as fuck', and the excitement that had been dormant ever since he got up returned with renewed force and he resolutely tore the hand on his chin away with a low growl and a possessive nip of teeth against the angel's lower lip. Castiel gasped and then moaned when Dean followed it up by using his tongue to soothe the bruised flesh and immediately taking advantage of the opening to slide it into his partner's mouth, ripping a startled groan from the angel's lungs. His hands kneaded Castiel's hips gently, pressing in closer and letting the angel feel the insistent swell of his growing erection as he rocked them together, one of his hands coming down to grope the other's ass, putting even more force behind the kiss.

Castiel's hands suddenly came up to fist roughly in the hunter's shirt and Dean was once again reminded about who and _what_ he was actually kissing when the angel spun him around and in two, very quick steps that may or may not have contained celestial magic, shoved him up against the nearest wall with a force that literally knocked the air out of his chest. Dean half expected to get his clothes cleanly ripped off of his body next, but to his combined relief and disappointment Castiel simply leaned in and rested his head against his shoulder and breathed in deeply, the vice of his hands easing up just enough not to leave bruises on Dean's skin.

"As much as I appreciate this activity," he panted, "I'm afraid that we're going to mentally scar your brother within the next fifteen seconds if we do not contain ourselves."

Dean threw a look at the crib over the crest of the angel's wings and yes, Sam was leaning against the railing, staring at them both as if they were the most fascinating and at the same time most horrifying thing he had ever seen and Dean groaned, letting his head loll back and thump loudly against the wall.

"I'm sick of containing myself," he muttered and Castiel snorted at him.

"In all honestly, none of us are doing a very good job on that." He remarked dryly.

"I guess not…" Dean tossed a dirty look at his brother. "Why do you have to be such a prude about everything?" he demanded and Sam's brow drew together momentarily, as if Dean was speaking a different language that he didn't understand and Dean sighed, earning him a soft chuckle from the mouth pressing against the side of his neck.

"There's no need to hurry, Dean." The angel took a step back, "Like you said, there's plenty of time."

Dean knew that Cas wasn't just talking about this here, right now, or even today, and he understood that, but he was still reluctant to let the other go and Castiel had still not released his hold of Dean's clothes, as if he didn't really believe in his own words either.

"Yeah…" Dean mumbled, "There's plenty of time."

He sighed again and dragged a tired hand over his face.

"We still haven't checked for damages upstairs have we?"

"Not yet." Castiel agreed and the light flutter of loss he felt when the angel's hands left his body was immediately soothed by the soft touch of grace Cas sent through the bond to compensate.

"Well… Bobby's gonna be home in less than an hour so…" he sighed. "You go upstairs, I'll come up once I'm sure Sam won't throw a complete fit if we leave him alone for a few minutes."

Castiel nodded and in a blink the spot in front of Dean was empty, quickly followed by the sound of footsteps being heard on the second floor above his head.

"It's _one_ staircase, Cas!" Dean yelled after him and he could actually feel the bond turning smug before he had even finished his sentence.

"Fricking angels…" he muttered, walking over to the crib and his still staring brother. "And thanks for the cock-block by the way," he added, "you plan on keeping that up when you become a real boy again?"

Sam gurgled something incoherent and casually flopped down onto his back, the one hand holding his teddy bear coming up to stuff the poor toy's ear into his mouth with a grin.

"Yeah, that's what I though." Dean muttered. "Now I'm going to leave you down here for a little while, you think you can manage to stay out of trouble until I get back?"

Sammy gnawed a little on the teddy's ear, seemingly thinking the suggestion over and then he made an enthusiastic little kick into the air with his legs and threw the bear around with a happy shriek.

"That's my boy." Dean grinned.

He turned around, taking a few steps to follow Castiel upstairs, but something in the corner of his eye caught his attention and he turned, going back to the spot where he and Cas had been just a minute ago where he bent down and picked up five, dark feathers from the floor.

Sam watched him intently from inside his crib and when Dean spun one of the feathers in between his fingers and the light sent reflecting spots of colors dancing around the room he giggled and did his little kick-dance again.

"Guess angel wings weren't made for rough sex, hey Sammy?" Dean grinned, "Poor guy, I should go easier on him next time."

Carefully placing the feathers on top of Bobby's bookshelf Dean gave Sam's head a quick ruffle before heading out to go upstairs, taking the steps two at the time while feeling extremely satisfied with himself.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

They methodically went over the top floor together, room by room, Dean providing Cas with suggestive smirks and cocky comments about his own bedroom skills whenever they found another window, vase or floorboard with a crack in it.

"Next time I'm stuffing that tie in your mouth." The hunter chuckled when Castiel patched up the crackled mirror in the upstairs bathroom.

"I told you," Castiel gruffed, "that reaction was caused by the merge."

"You sure about that?"

Castiel sent a reprimanding look his way, but Dean simply grinned and leaned against the doorframe.

"Dude, your orgasms blow out _windows_." He pointed out. "Literally. You can't expect me to just leave that alone."

"My expectations are not that high, I assure you." The angel mumbled, his finger carefully tracing the lines of the crackled mirror, the cracks sealing together behind the digit as if they were never there. "Also, you seem to forget that since we are properly joined now, I can tell that your remarks are not as much meant as ridicule, but a modest way of saying that you approved of my reaction, so I'm afraid I cannot take your mockery seriously."

"Wow, way to shoot a guy down, Cas…" Dean grumbled, lowering his eyes to the floor, but as his gaze fell onto the worn tiles by his feet his eyebrows drew together in a scowl and he leaned down, sending the angel a worried look.

_What?_ Castiel asked without even turning away from his task, but then he winced slightly, reaching up to place the tip of his fingers against his temple. _Slower, Dean, you're screaming._

_You damn right I'm screaming! What the hell is this?_

Castiel turned around, coming face to face with Dean who was glaring him down, the bond still swimming with echoes of the words just spoken through it along with a rush of emotions ranging from worry, to fear to anger, all jumbled into a flurry of confusion. Castiel was about to open his mouth and ask what was wrong when he noticed the object Dean was holding up to his face and the frown on his face instantly smoothed out when he saw what it was.

_Oh._

"That's all you can say?" Dean snarled. "'Oh'? They're all over the fucking floor, Cas, look!"

Castiel glanced down and sure enough, in a neat little circle around his feet there was now a dozen of shimmering, dark feathers, another one falling down to join it's fallen siblings on the floor beneath Dean's accusing finger.

"You keep telling me that you're good and that you're getting your strength back, but how do you explain this?!"

"Dean, it's not what you think."

"Really?" Dean snapped. "Because I found more of these downstairs, just after you used your mojo to teleport yourself up here and now when you're fixing the mirror you lose even more? How is that _not_ related?"

Castiel sighed, his wings stretching out to the side and causing more feathers to rustle to the floor.

"My wings are a physical manifestation of my grace, you know this already."

"Yeah, they are, and right now they're falling apart!"

"No, Dean they're-…."

"For Christ's sake Cas, what's _wrong_ with you?!"

"I've _told_ you, nothing's _wrong_, I'm just…" With a frustrated sound he reached back and buried his hand into his left wing, yanking out a fistful of feathers with such force it made Dean wince, but the angel himself didn't even flinch. Instead he held out the glistening feathers towards Dean who took them with his jaw dropped, feeling the silken touch tickle the palm of his hand.

"In their true form, an angel's wings are like a personal résumé. It tells other angels everything there is to know about one another, their rank, their powers and their… social status."

Castiel sighed, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

"Dean, are you familiar with the Green Headed Tanager?"

Dean blinked.

"What the hell is a tanager?"

"It's a bird." Dean's mind was suddenly filled with the viral image of a bird; small like a sparrow, but with the most luminous, multicolored feathers that he hadn't seen in anything outside of cartoon movies, but the undertone of the image Castiel sent him made it very clear that this was indeed a real, living creature.

"It lives in Brazil," the angel continued, the bird in Dean's head continuing to skip between green branches, "It's recognized by the colorful plumage they grow during mating season. Once mated, however, the Tanager birds shed their colors and grow another, less eye-catching one."

The moving image of the tanager in Dean's head suddenly shifted, the bright plumage slowly fading into a grey, greenish, dull color that made the once so beautiful bird look downright boring and when Dean sent the question of why he was being given a ornithology class Castiel's eyes flickered towards the floor and the feathers lying there.

"When I manifested my wings here on this physical plane, I had not yet taken a mate. Now that you and I have bonded, my grace is… changing, causing my corporal plumage to change with it."

Dean took a moment to think this information through, and with a little guidance from the feelings vibrating through the psychic link his jaw slowly relaxed and his eyes widened.

"You're _molting_?" He asked incredulously and Castiel actually looked a bit embarrassed by the word.

"Technically speaking." He grumbled and Dean inclined his head, seeking eye contact.

"Because you're… like… taking yourself off the Angel Speed Dating Market?" he clarified.

"Yes." Castiel sent a glance over his shoulder and flapped his wings once, sending a whirl of feathers exploding into the air. "Though I have to admit, it causes a bit of a mess…" he sighed, straightening up. "I suppose it was unavoidable." He concluded and Dean looked up, feeling the bond pull slightly when Castiel's grace focused away from him, building steadily.

"Cas…?" he asked, a hint of the angel's intentions flickering through the bond. "Cas, what are you doing?"

The growing force stilled and Castiel looked at Dean, a bit surprised at the reluctance he found in the other's head.

"These wings have served their purpose. I'm returning my body into its original, human state."

Dean stared at the wings rising over the angel's head, following the dark arches up and then down to where the large primary feathers were almost brushing against the floor before he looked down at the smaller feathers still residing in his hand, feeling his chest clench tight at the sight of them. The lilac and green hues were glistening up at him, reflecting the weak light from the lamp above the mirror and he recalled how they had glistened like oil on water the first time he had laid eyes on them, remembered the dry whisper they had made when Castiel had first spread them out in that creaky, old motel room. It felt like ages ago, and yet it was less than a week past since the angel had brought them both to their knees in Bobby's study, the feathers now residing in his hand spreading prisms of light and color over the dark walls as the sun rose beyond the horizon, the shock of finding out the angel's true feelings for him still reeking havoc through his system…

He let his thumb slowly slide over the velvet in his hand, watching the fibers stretch and expand from the pressure, spreading, but never breaking.

"These new feathers of yours…" he mumbled. "Will they be… different?"

Castiel looked at him, and Dean felt the silken touch of the other's mind brush against his own, a flicker of confusion sparking at the contact.

"They will take on a less… flamboyant visage, yes. " The angel canted his head, seeking out Dean's eyes. "They're still the same wings, Dean."

"I know, it's just…"

Again he felt Castiel's consciousness move in to touch his, but this time Dean moved away. It was stupid, he knew it was. Of course the wings would still be the same, they would still be _Castiel_, but he didn't like the thought of the angel changing, even if the change was a completely natural thing for the angel to undertake or even a positive one. He just wanted to keep him the way he was, and it was silly and childish and he knew that it wouldn't change anything between the two of them, but still… if he could just…

"What will they look like?" he asked. "I mean for real, in… you know, Heaven…?"

Castiel shook his head slowly.

"It's hard to explain… They are more of a feeling than they are a visual impression. For example a person's individual paradise is based upon a feeling; a sentiment, as is everything in Heaven… but I suppose…" He straightened up. "Close your eyes." He ordered and Dean complied obediently, feeling a chill rush up his spine when the force of Castiel's grace flared up like a beacon within his mind and when Castiel's fingers ghosted against his forehead the beacon exploded into a vision of an inky night sky, drizzled with stars and galaxies, moving and swirling, silver nebulas circling around one another in a dance that lasted beyond the concept of time and his heart filled with peace, an assurance that everything was okay, that things were going to be fine and he sucked in a shaky breath into his lungs that felt like spring rain and tasted like summer sun, Castiel's grace moving in to caress his soul with a tenderness that made his insides tremble. Then he felt the soft brush of lips against his cheek and he opened his eyes, realizing with a faint sensation of embarrassment that the angel was kissing away a tear running down the left side of his face.

"Is that…" he cleared his throat, getting rid of the shivering that still lingered in his vocal chords. "Is that what they will look like?" he asked.

"No." Castiel shook his head. "That is the best image I can provide using the potential of the human imagination. For you to face them directly, even with the enhanced senses of a mate, would without a doubt blind you forever."

"I can think of worse ways to go." Dean breathed out and in response he received another kiss on the cheek before the angel pulled back, head curiously tilted to the side, as if he was seeing his face in a different light for the first time

"You are a remarkable man, Dean Winchester." He said quietly. "I doubt that there is any other human on this planet who would take the prospect of being blinded by celestial powers with such ease… Less than a decade ago people would have either declared you a saint or burned you on a stake for heresy."

"Shut up…" Dean muttered, feeling an embarrassed blush threaten to creep up his neck, the thought of him as a saint being both flattering and ridiculous at the same time and in turn Castiel provided him with an equally ridiculously detailed image of him dressed in a robe and a halo circled around his head.

"Now that's just scary." He winced, swatting the image away and sighed. "This whole molting thing… it ain't all that bad then?" he asked and Castiel smiled, shaking his head softly.

"No, it's not." He assured him and Dean sighed again, plucking with the feathers in his hand.

"And what about these?" he asked, holding the feather's out. "If you… send your wings back to Heaven, or whatever, will they disappear too?

"Not by default, no, but I'll make sure to not leave any of them lying around. I don't want to cause Bobby any inconvenience."

"Because I was thinking… you know… if you're going to get rid of them anyway… I thought perhaps…"

Dean's words caught in his throat, the weight of Castiel's eyes upon his face together with the searching intent of his grace making it hard to focus on what he was trying to say. Then Cas looked down upon the floor and picked up the rest of the feather's lying there before he stepped forward and placed them all in Dean's outstretched hand and gently bent his fingers to clutch loosely around the objects.

"Keep them."

"No, no, I didn't mean-…" Dean stuttered, but Castiel caught him off.

"I want you to have them." He insisted. "I believe your kind would refer to them as a 'wedding gift'."

"Oh…Uh… thanks…" This time he was definitely blushing, he could feel the burn on his ears growing hotter by the second. "I… I don't have anything for you, though." He tried, attempting to make it sound like a joke, but without succeeding much.

"Don't worry." Castiel's hand squeezed lightly around Dean's fist before letting it go. "You're a resourceful man, I'm sure you'll figure something out." Something flickered against Dean's mind, a warm, tender sensation that sent his heart skipping away inside his chest and he pulled the feathers closer, realizing with a regretful sting that this was his last chance… that the wings were going and he would never be able to see them again, or touch them, or...

"Can I just…" he reach out, dragging his hand loosely over the outer frame of the nearest wing, trying to ignore the gentle sigh that came from Cas at the contact for his own sanity's sake before pulling the hand back again.

"Look at me I'm a complete mess over here..." he snorted. "Never thought I'd get sentimental over a pair of feather dusters…"

Castiel smiled and opened his mouth to say something, but whatever it was got drowned out by the loud blaring of a car horn that came from outside and Dean turned around, startled by the sudden sound.

"Looks like Bobby's back." He sighed. "You think you can fix the rest up here while I go outside and help-...?"

It didn't hurt like he thought it would, the sight of Castiel; the plain, none-feathered Castiel feeling like a being reunited with an old friend, but it was strange, as if something important had suddenly gone missing. In a flutter of panic he grappled for the bond inside his head, letting out a relieved gush of breath when Castiel's mind met him halfway, psychic fingers curling around his in a gentle, but firm grip.

"I can bring them back you know," the angel said softly.

"Really?" Dean's head shot up. "Like whenever?"

"Yes, whenever." Cas nodded.

"Won't it hurt?" Dean asked, recalling how the original manifestation had seemingly caused the other a great deal of pain. "I mean, last time you looked like you were going to kill yourself." He added worriedly and Castiel's lip twitched in amusement.

"It won't be a problem." he assured him before turning back to the mirror. "You better go help Bobby, he's not going to be happy when he finds out that one of the beer bottles broke in the back seat."

"When the what?" Dean asked, but the next second they both heard something sounding like a loud curse followed by the bang of a car door from the yard outside.

"The beer bottle," Castiel repeated, once again tracing his finger along the broken glass in the frame above the sink. "I suggest you bring some paper towels with you, it made quite a mess."

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Dean expected there to be some sort of interrogation session performed once Bobby got home, but as it turned out, Bobby didn't want to know a thing about anything that happened while he was away. He accepted the fact that there were no beddings in the couch with nothing more but a raised brow and he made no comment on the apparent loss of Castiel's wings, thought the looks he sent the angel from the corner of his eye were questioning and perhaps even a bit suspicious. For obvious reasons Castiel and Dean decided not to tell the man anything about their wild, kitchen hump session, that Cas accidentally blew Dean up or the fact that they were now technically hitched; the latter being something they decided could wait for another day or two until they knew Sam would be okay.

They _are_ however forced to tell him why his pantry and all of his kitchen cupboards have suddenly gone empty and Bobby takes the explanation rather calmly with a mix of horror and amusement, but when Dean explains why the vacuum cleaner is currently lying down by the garage, insides burnt to a crisp Bobby starts laughing so hard he has to sit down.

Dinner was simple, just a few steaks and some roasted potatoes that Cas volunteered to make for them, and as usual it all tasted delicious. Dean tried to make Cas have some of it for himself, but the angel declined politely, saying that he already knew what it tasted like and wasn't in need of any food, and in all honestly, Dean didn't have the mental strength to argue with him, even though he made a valid point of smacking loudly through the bond as he ate.

"So let me see if I got the story right," Bobby said, pointing his fork at Castiel, "You got hit by some wacky monster-mojo, making you powerless." He shifted the fork to Dean, "This turns you into a walking, talking angel-first aid-kit, but the only way to make the actual healing take off is for the two of you to, well, get off."

"Tactic choice of words, Bobby." Dean grumbled into his glass, but Bobby didn't grant him as much as a glance.

"So while the two of you struggle with the moral dilemmas of whether to screw the other, keep it in your pants or stay alive, you manage to fix up five of my worst case cars out back, eat every single scrap of food in my kitchen and send my deathtrap of a vacuum cleaner on its last voyage…"

"That sounds about right, yeah." Dean muttered and Bobby shrugged, returning to the last piece of his steak.

"Well, at least you didn't tear the house down." He said, and on the other side of the table Dean and Castiel shared a quick, guilty thought through the bond without even lifting their eyes from the table.

After dinner they all sat down in the study, making sure they had everything they needed to perform Sammy's ritual for the upcoming night. Castiel and Bobby went through Bobby's supplies of herbs and talismans while Dean carried Sam around the room, humming various guitar riffs silently to the child in his arms. This had so far been Cas' job, but when Castiel had appeared downstairs with no wings, Sam had taken one look at him, made a disapproved, smacking noise in the back of his mouth and then, with surprising accuracy, hauled a wooden toy horse at the angel, hitting him square in the chest with it. And who knew; even as a baby, Sam seemed to have mastered the trick of bitch-face no.9, looking at the two of them as if to ask why the hell they couldn't have kept the wings until he was big enough to get a proper look at them?

Apparently ordinary, old, feather-less Cas wasn't as exciting to be around as the winged one…

Once Sam had been put down for his, hopefully, last night of sleeping in the crib, Bobby stretched, yawned and declared that he was beat after driving all day and was going to bed.

"I take it the two of you are done fighting over the guestroom so… I'll see you tomorrow." He started walking towards the door, but stopped, turning back around with a reprimanding finger raised. "I'm not even going to tell you to keep it quiet down here." He warned and when he only got two completely innocent looking faces in return from the two males sitting on the couch he shook his head and disappeared up the staircase, muttering something about 'idjits' and 'should have bought earplugs'.

Dean glanced at Cas, who glanced back calmly and then Dean's face split into a wide grin.

_You heard the man, Cas. Better keep those lungs in control._

_Bite me, Dean._

Dean's brows shot up in surprise to the response and Castiel rolled his eyes to the ceiling.

_I'm inside your head, remember? I must say I find your vocabulary rather… colorful._

"You're going through my insults?" Dean asked incredulously.

"Amongst other things."

"Other things?" Dean slid a bit closer, his hand coming to a rest just above the angel's knee while his lips curled into a mischievous smirk. "Like what for example?"

Castiel looked down at the hand on his leg, amusement slowly unfurling through the bond.

"Well, for example, I was trying to find out if whether or not you had any plans on how to spend the rest of the evening." A quick glimpse of naked skin and the sensation of heat flashed through the link, the already apparent hint now obvious.

"Yeah?" Dean smirked, his hands moving even further up the thigh, relishing in the contradicting way the other did not move as much as a muscle, while the psychic link practically trembled with anticipation. "Find anything useful?"

Teasing fingers tip-toed their way higher, gracing against the seam of the angel's fly and Castiel shuddered, eyes sliding shut.

"Yes."

"Good." Dean whispered and then he closed the distance, kissing the angel fully on the lips and cupping him through his slacks, making Cas moan loudly, Dean earning him a teasing nip of teeth in return.

"Hey, shh…" he grinned, "Bobby said quiet, remember?"

Castiel's eyes squinted open, giving him a glare, but they quickly fluttered shut once more when Dean applied more pressure with his hand and started kissing a sloppy trail down his neck.

"Dean…" he objected weakly, "Sam is still-"

"Sleeping like a baby," Dean assured him, already with his other hand snaking its way underneath the white shirt. "And if we just keep quiet he's going to stay that way."

Dean knew he should be feeling guilty for initiating something like this while his sleeping baby brother was in the same room, but right now he just wanted _Cas_, right here and right now, the bedroom feeling like miles away and if Sam woke up then Dean was not above asking Castiel to wipe his memory later. He sent the message to the angel, along with a slow swipe of his thumb across a peaked nipple and it only took Castiel's mind between two or three seconds of hesitation before his own hands got on with the program and began tearing at the hem of Dean's t-shirt.

It's fast, rough and dirty, all hands and mouths and hot breath as they scramble to make room on the couch, buttons coming undone and clothes being pulled aside in a tangle of limbs until Dean has Castiel on his back, shoved up against the armrest, yanking the dark slacks and boxers down and grabbing hold of the hard member underneath, swallowing Castiel's moan down with a wicked slide of his lips. Castiel's dick is already moist at the tip and the skin moves slick when Dean starts pumping it, his mouth easing down the rough stubbles of the angel's neck once more, leaving a glistening mess of saliva behind and feeling the angel's pulse race beneath the tip of his tongue. The top two buttons of Castiel's shirt pops free without much effort and then Dean is suckling at the edge of a collar bone, grinding down against the mattress to take the edge off for himself, but suddenly there's a grip at the side of his jeans, lifting him up and then – holy shit – Cas is shoving his hand down his front and Dean's hips stutter, his breath locking in his chest and fuck, this is not going to last long and he had no interest in making it so either. He _wanted_, wanted right _now_ and _shit_ he needed to get these jeans unbuttoned and open before Cas brought this to a too fast and too embarrassing end and Castiel's hand immediately pulled out and began fumbling with the zipper instead.

"Yeah, get them off me…" Dean rasped, not really caring that Cas was already a step ahead of him and when his dick finally sprung free from within his trousers and Castiel's fingers wrapped around him again he buried his moan against the angel's shoulder, the sensation of Castiel's grace moving up and down his spine feeling like physical fingers on his body. Cas' breath tickled his ear, the ragged sounds falling from the angel's lips making his gut tighten and head to sear, but they were too loud, much too loud!

"Hold on, hold on…"

He released his grip on the other's cock, even though the disapproval of Castiel's thoughts almost made him change his mind, but the other's light protest was quickly replaced by heavy objection when Dean grabbed hold of the blue silk around the angel's neck and held it up to Cas' lips like a gag.

_Told you I was going to stuff this thing in your mouth._ He grinned and in response he got a sour glare and a warning spark through the bond, but Dean ignored it.

_I know kinky shit like this turns you on, Cas. Now are you going to take this like a good boy or do you want me to force you?_

Like earlier that morning, that same _something_ sparked deep behind those blue eyes when Dean sent the message through the link and this time it was accompanied by a pang of arousal so primal it almost had Dean slumping over right there, a close to pained groan making it's way up his throat when the angel opened up his mouth and bit down across the tie with a challenging glare.

_If you think it necessary,_ he shot back and Dean swore, if he didn't know any better he'd say that Cas actually _wanted_ Dean to make him lose it completely right there on the sofa. Well, if that's how he wanted to play it…

_You just concentrate on staying quiet._ He growled and then he scooted down the other's thighs and sank his mouth over the angel's erection, feeling the other's body lock up and hearing the startled moan echo through his head before it got muffled by the silk in Castiel's mouth.

Dean had obviously never gone down on a guy before, but he had gotten the favor performed for himself enough times to know how to work the basics, and apparently the basics were more than enough going by the inhumanly strong hand that suddenly shot down to fist in the hair on top of his head. The taste of precum was salty and bitter in Dean's mouth, but not repulsive even though new and unfamiliar, but it only lasted for a few seconds before his own saliva had cleaned it away, leaving only the taste of warm, wet skin behind and Dean decided that if this was all the fuss sucking dick was about, then he could definitely get used to it.

Especially if Castiel kept being so receptive about the whole deal, because the makeshift gag may be keeping the angel from making any unnecessary loud noises, but in turn the bond was practically exploding with emotions and half broken sentences that perfectly matched with the wide eyed, slightly panicked look on the angel's face, as if watching what Dean was doing to him was an act akin to torture.

Dean's tongue swirled around the head of the erection in his mouth, lapping at the salty liquid that continued to seep from the slit and when he hollowed his cheeks and sucked, the hand not currently grabbing his hair shot up to clutch around the armrest of the couch, seemingly holding on for dear life as Dean continued to experiment with this new, surprisingly effective way of making the angel literally lose his mind.

_You like that, Cas? _He mused, grinning around the flesh in his mouth. _Does it feel good?_

Blue eyes fluttered open and locked onto his from underneath dark lashes and suddenly Dean felt the grace against his mind _shift_ and-

The moan ripping out of his throat was almost embarrassingly loud, and the vibrations it caused to travel down the angel's length reverbed along his own dick in a ripple of pure pleasure, Castiel's hips bucking up and oh god, oh shit-

Even with his mouth stuffed full of fabric, Castiel actually had the nerve to look smug and Dean tried to wipe the look off his face by mouthing light teeth just below the head of the other's erection, but immediately regretted the move when white spots burst before his eyes as he did it and he pulled of with a gasp when he realized what was going on. The fucker was using the bond to loop the sensations of Dean's actions back to Dean himself! He was technically giving himself a blowjob, how was that even-?

_Don't think so much._

Even Castiel's thoughts sounded breathless; excited like the pure thought of what Dean was experiencing was nearly too much for him to take and keep his mind coherent at the same time and Dean quickly decided that if he could come to terms with giving another guy a blowjob then he sure as hell wasn't going to let himself be put off by giving one to himself.

Breathing in deeply through his nose he lowered his mouth down, tentatively lapping at the tip of the erection in his hand and shuddered when his own dick twitched between his legs in response and then he basically went to town, swallowing the other's cock down as if it was the sweetest fucking treat in the whole damn world.

His mouth was pure hot, scorching heat and his stubble rasped against the inside of his thigh, making him quiver and the thought that this was what Castiel was feeling, that this is what Dean was making an _angel of the lord_ experience, for the first time, made him want to take things even further, make it better and in a spur of pure boldness he relaxed his throat, attempting to take the erection even deeper, and how girls managed to do that and make it look so easy he would simply never now, but holy shit, _fuck_!

His throat worked around Castiel's dick, around _himself_ and he knew that if he didn't pull off soon he would actually end up choking himself, but it felt so _good_ and Castiel was a quivering-breathing-harshly-through-his-nose-with-his-eyes-screwed-shut _mess_ above him and he wanted to make it last, push it a little further, a little longer, wanted Cas to really _lose it_ in so many ways he could barely think straight!

He swallowed, somehow, he can't for the life of him remember how he did it, because it should have been impossible, but as he did he could feel a climax begin to claw its way up his spine, but damn he couldn't tell the difference if it was his own or Cas' anymore, but his question was quickly answered when the angel suddenly bucked his hips again, the hand in Dean's hair flexing with nails burying harshly into his scalp with a desperation that made Dean's heart race.

_Dean… You… I'm-! _

Dean pulled off and nodded, because he knew, he knew and he quickly dragged himself up, bracing himself on one arm next to the angel's head while using his free hand to grab hold of them both, the heat of Castiel's cock pressing against his own inside the tight circle of his palm forcing a silent wince to cross his lips as he rocked them together, his own precum mixing with the slick of his saliva and he was close, so close, and Jesus fucking _Christ_-…!

Castiel's hand suddenly fell down and clenched around his shoulder like a vice, his eyes mesmerized to the spot where Dean's hand jacked them both off, where Dean's cock was sliding up against his own, hard and wet and Dean could feel it, actually _feel_ inside his head how the angel's orgasm shot up and burst from the stiff member in his hand, painting white splatters all over the dress shirt and the _sight_ of it, the _vision_ of Castiel's come dribbling down his hand and soiling his own dick was more than enough to tip him over the edge, his mouth falling open in a desperate, silent gasp as his release came to add to the mess on the angel's clothing in white hot streaks.

The next thing he knows his hand is giving out from underneath him and he comes crashing down in between the angel and the backrest of the couch, just barely avoiding to land on top of the ruined fabric below with a shaky breath, his chest heaving as he tries to gulp down as much air as he can without making any loud noises, the angel by his side in a much similar state.

For a few seconds Dean just lies there, listening intently with every muscle in his body tense and prepare to bolt right out of the couch from the first sign of movement from the second floor, but when there are no steps coming down the stairs or sound coming from the crib he relaxed, letting out a long, relieved sigh against the angel's shoulder.

"Fuck, that was hot…" he panted, feeling Castiel's mind gather itself enough to focus on him once more as he allowed the tie to fall from his mouth.

"It was… surprisingly pleasant." He agreed, seemingly dazed and had it not been for the empty blank of space he found where the angel's normal thoughts should be Dean would have thought the other was being sarcastic.

"Yeah… it was a surprise alright." Dean chuckled, wiping his hand off on the angel's collar and when Castiel turned to look at the wet stain left behind Dean just shrugged.

"C'mon, it's not like one more stain is going to make a difference. I'll wash it for you tomorrow."

"No need." Castiel said calmly and the Dean's entire body made a violent jump when something that felt like a draft from Siberia rushed over his body and when he looked down upon himself his hands were clean and his dick neatly tucked back behind zipped jeans and an awed look later confirmed that Castiel's shirt was now clean and his slacks back in place once more.

"Now that's just cheating." Dean remarked and Cas' brow furrowed. "Had I know that I would have made an even bigger mess out of you."

The angel closed his eyes and sighed, his lip twitching slightly.

"Perhaps some other time." He negotiated and Dean chuckled silently before promptly shoving the angel out of the couch, but instead of the heavy thump he had hoped for there was a low flutter of wings and then Castiel was standing by the foot of the sofa, looking at him accusingly.

"You didn't actually expect that to work, did you?" he asked, one brow raised and Dean grinned sheepishly and shrugged helplessly.

"C'mon, I had to try."

"Then I suggest you make a new attempt when the bond doesn't give away your intentions beforehand. Secrets are hard to keep during the first twenty-four hours."

"Yeah, I noticed."

Castiel walked up, extending his hand and Dean took it, allowing the angel to drag him to his feet and after a silent conversation involving whether or not they should make their new relationship undisputedly official by going to bed they decided that Bobby was more than likely expecting them to share the guestroom anyway and together they padded out of the room and down the corridor, Castiel closing the door silently behind them as they reached their sleeping quarters.

It was a strange thing to undress in front of each other rather than by each other, the prospects of sex now efficiently being put out of the way and when Dean pulled the t-shirt over his head he recalled that night at the motel, where the two of them had shared a bed for the first time and he marveled once again over how things had changed. Back then undressing in front of Castiel had been awkward, those eerie blue eyes making him feel both calm and terrified at the same time and he sent the thought through the link, like a sentimental anecdote, feeling the angel's mind close around the memory, inspecting it from every angle.

"You truly felt that uncomfortable about undressing in front of me?" Castiel asked, sliding the shirt of his shoulders and Dean shrugged.

"Yeah… I mean, I hadn't really shared a bed with another guy before… even less a half naked guy."

"Strange though…" Castiel mumbled.

"What is?"

"That you would find the thought of me seeing you in a state of undressed awkward. Especially since I had seen you naked before."

Dean almost stumbled out of his jeans.

_What?!_

The angel looked up, the belt of his trousers already undone.

"Of course." He said, stepping out of the dark suit pants and folding them neatly over his arm. "I did pull you out of Hell after all. Though I have to admit, your body looks far better now than the first time I saw it."

Dean rolled his eyes to the ceiling and climbed in under the covers.

"I sure hope so. The first time you saw it I had been dead for six months."

"My sentiments exactly." The angel agreed and slid down next to him, his naked legs immediately managing to sneak in and tangle with Dean's own before Cas had even settled fully against the pillows.

"Cas, you forgot the lights." Dean nodded towards the ceiling where the lamp was still shining brightly and Castiel looked up, following his gaze.

"Apologies." He mumbled and with a flick of his wrist the light switch by the door flipped down and the room went dark.

"Show off." Dean muttered, nestling deeper into the beddings.

"Thank you."

Dean heard the angel shift closer and then there was a soft ghosting of breath against his lips just before Castiel's mouth made contact with his in a quick kiss.

"You should sleep." Castiel declared firmly, as if he had not just done the equivalent of kissing Dean good night. "Your body is still recovering from the merge and if you don't rest adequately you are most likely to suffer from migraine tomorrow."

"Cas, I'm fine." Dean objected, because he wasn't going to admit that having the other's mind slot up against his own felt very much like a cool hand on the forehead when you had a fever.

"You should sleep," the angel repeated softly and two seconds later Dean's eyelids slid close, his breath evening out and his body going lax against the sheets while his head lolled over to rest heavily on Castiel's shoulder, the angel's fingers moving in light, gentle circles through the short spikes of his hair, blue eyes studying him fondly, lovingly...

_I'll watch over you…_

/\/\/\/\/\/\

**I seem to have developed an annoying trend of making my chapters longer and longer. 25 pages, who would have known? I think I have to try and refrain from doing it though, the chapters take far too long to post… But I hope you liked this one at least =) The porn wasn't actually supposed to have been in there, but Dean was being his usual, pervy self and Cas… well, lets just say that some angels are not as innocent as the Bible would like us to believe… ;)**


	13. Chapter 13

When Dean woke up he was a bit let down to find that Castiel had already left; the guestroom being empty apart from his own, still rather sleepy presence. He yawned and stretched, blinking a few times against the light shining in through the window before he sat up with a horrified gasp, rod straight with the panic clawing at the inside of his chest because he _couldn't feel it_! His mind grappled for the spot inside his head where Castiel's presence was supposed to be, but there was nothing! Cas was _gone_ and the once so familiar feeling of being alone inside his head was suddenly the most terrifying thing he had ever experienced in his life, causing his soul to send a hysteric pulse of fear into the void, calling for the angel's grace through the darkness. The response was immediate and Dean's hands clutched around the covers around his waist when the angel's voice sounded from within his mind, weak and distant as if he was answering him from hundreds of miles away.

_I'm here Dean._

_Cas! Cas what's happening? The bond-!_

_It's still there, just breathe. Look._

Something flickered at the outskirts of his mind, like a light in the darkness and he turned his attention towards it, reaching out with all he was worth and just like that Castiel's presence was there with him once more, the familiar warmth of grace caressing the edge of his soul with deft fingertips.

"Oh thank god…!" Dean gasped, burying his face in his hands, breathing in deeply. He could feel Castiel press in closer against him, an almost pitying tone to his thoughts.

_I told you the bond would stabilize itself after the first twenty-four hours had passed._ He chided softly.

_Yeah, you said stabilize, not disappear!_ Dean threw back, feeling the embarrassment of having freaked out like that begin to blossom on his cheeks.

_It's not disappearing either._ Cas assured him. _ Angel's may have a reputation to be patient beings, but even we require some time for ourselves. The bond is still there, not weakened or disintegrated, just sleeping._

_Then how come I couldn't find it? When I woke up it was gone; you're the one who brought it back._

_You'll learn to find it on your own, beloved, give it time._

Dean's eyebrows shot up, an amused smirk slowly curling across his lip.

_Beloved? _He asked slyly, feeling Castiel's mind do something he could only describe as blush in response.

_Apologies. _The angel grumbled. _That was not intentional._

_I can tell. You're blushing like a little schoolgirl._ Dean grinned.

_Thank you for the input._ Cas muttered back, but not even the angel's testy tone could keep the hot pulse of embarrassment from shooting through the bond along with it and Dean smiled.

_Is that what you call me? _ He mused. _In your head?_

Castiel's grace almost seemed to glower at him for a moment, but then the tension eased, slowly getting replaced by genuine surprise.

_You like it?_ The angel asked, somewhat dumbfounded.

_It has a certain ring to it,_ Dean admitted, settling down onto his back and folding his arms behind his head. _It beats being called 'sweetheart' or 'darling'. Just… you know, don't _tell_ anyone that you call me that. Especially Sam, he'll never let me hear the end of it._

_I understand._ Castiel smiled back and a part of Dean was suddenly overcome by the intense desire to reach out and touch the corner of the angel's mouth. Preferably with his own lips.

_Hey, where are you anyway?_ he asked, silently hoping that the angel hadn't gone too far.

_I'm in Israel._ Cas answered and Dean sighed ruefully because yeah, that was _way_ too far.

_What the hell are you doing in Israel?_ He asked, trying not to make it sound as if he was sulking.

_There was one ingredient missing amongst Bobby's supplies that we need for tonight. I was just about to head back when you woke up._

_Oh, could you do me a favor and bring me back a falafel before you go? _Dean asked, feeling his stomach rumble at the mere thought of food.

_Bobby bought eggs and bacon for breakfast._ Castiel objected.

_C'mon, eggs and bacon can't possibly compete with a legitimate, native produced falafel! Please? It's not like it's gonna slow you down._

_You are abusing your new social stature Dean._ The angel pointed out and Dean immediately responded by sending him a teary eyed pout through the bond and Cas sighed.

_Fine, I'll get you your… falafel._ The word rolled through the link in a way that made it very clear that Cas was not overly enthusiastic about the thought, but Dean ignored him.

_Sweet!_

He closed his eyes, waiting for the familiar sound of invisible wings to break the silence and after a few seconds Castiel's voice sounded inside his head once more.

_There, I brought it._

Dean sat up, surprised that he hadn't heard the angel enter the room, but when he looked around he was still alone.

_Dude, are you in the wrong house or something? I can't see you._

_Breakfast is taken in the kitchen, Dean._ Castiel scolded.

_Seriously? I'm not getting breakfast in bed?_

_That was for when you were sick. There's nothing wrong with you now._

_Wow, thanks for that one._ Dean rolled his eyes to the ceiling.

_You're welcome, beloved. Now get out of there and come eat your food before it gets cold._

/\/\/\/\/\/\

The day passed slowly. Bobby spent most of the time buried amongst the papers and scrolls Castiel had provided Dean with while he was still confined to his sickbed, trying to catch up on what exactly they were supposed to be doing once night fell.

Sam played with his toys on a big blanket in the middle of the study, seemingly never growing tired of his teddy bear and the big, colorful plastic building blocks that he granted couldn't build with had his life depended on it, but still enjoyed to throw around like confetti during Mardi Gras.

Castiel quickly developed a strong interest in the TV and Dean soon found himself sprawled out on the couch, explaining the plotline of the MD marathon that was playing while Cas did his best to understand why the characters all seemed to behave like lovesick rabbits. After a few episodes however, the angel's mind seemed to become completely submerged in the images flickering across the screen, his consciousness lax and comfortable by Dean's side, though sometimes there would be a spark of emotion shooting across the bond like a firework of colors. The bursts were much weaker and appeared with longer intervals than they had the day before and Dean quickly decided that it had to be the most frustrating thing he had experienced in his life! It was like having your favorite song finally come on the radio only to have the reception go bad and Dean was desperately trying to compensate by curling his mind around the little shiny spot inside his head where he and Cas connected with one another with a close to needy possessiveness.

Normally he would never in his life admit to the fact that the mere thought of losing the bond with Cas made him break out in a cold sweat all over his body, but since Cas could literally read his mind anyway he didn't bother trying to hide it, even if it was new and bordering to scary to do so, which in turn made keeping the bond open even _harder_ because admitting to being scared of being scared was just about as much embarrassment as he could handle at the moment.

Cas had tried to ease his worries and possibly spare him his humiliation by telling him that the bond wasn't going anywhere; that it was in fact unbreakable from this point on, but Dean still didn't feel comfortable enough to let go of it quite yet and after a few hours Cas had simply stopped trying to convince him otherwise and simply let him be.

As of now they were both sitting on the couch, Dean lying sprawled out on one end like a discarded piece of clothing and Castiel sitting neatly with his hands folded in his lap on the other, his eyes fixed intently on the TV where one of the interns were now running late to a career-threatening surgery because she was busy being enthusiastically pounded into a shelf in the hospital storage by Dr. Sexy's best friend, also know as Dr. Hottie. The combination of the barely there partial nudity and safe camera angles seemed to wake the angel's interest even further, one part of his mind focusing harder on the scenery before his eyes while the other searched out Dean's consciousness through the bond.

_That looks pleasant._ The angel commented through the link when the camera zoomed in to focus on the way the female intern's legs wrapped around Dr. Hottie's waistline and Dean smirked.

_I'm sure it is._ He sent back and removed his foot to give the angel more room when Castiel straightened up to lean against the backrest.

_I would like to try that with you._ Cas confided solemnly, as if he was talking about what clothes he would like to wear, but the sentence carried a piece of that dark, sort of musky undertone that revealed that he was in every way being serious.

_We could do that,_ Dean agreed, sending a quick glance at Bobby on the other side of the room. He knew for a fact that the old man couldn't eavesdrop on them, but it still felt a bit awkward to have this type of conversation in the presence of someone who basically was like a father to them both.

_It will probably be a bitch to find a wall that won't cause too much noise for the other's sake, but we'll figure something out. _He continued, but to his surprise Castiel let out a low chuckle and turned away from the TV, the blue eyes looking him down suddenly holding an entirely different kind of want than what he had expected.

_You misunderstand me, Dean._ He explained calmly. _I have no immediate interest on the subject of vertical lovemaking._ A fluttering sensation as that of fingertips against his skin skirted along the inside of Dean's thigh, making his breath hitch. _I would like to try _that_ with you._ The angel clarified and Dean's hand fisted in the old fabric of the cushion by his side when the feeling rose even higher, dipping in between his ass-cheeks with sliding pressure and it took all he had not to yelp and arch straight of the furniture right there, Bobby present or not.

_Oh…!_ He stuttered, his body sinking back down against the couch when the touch of celestial fingers removed itself just as quickly as it had appeared. Castiel was looking at him intently, the normally so bright blue of his eyes now appearing dark and predatory and Dean recalled the look the angel had sent him over his shoulder that day in the kitchen, when the two of them had still been struggling with the split grace fighting to pull them together and he gulped, his heart making a crazy somersault inside his chest.

He hadn't really thought about the fact that Cas would be interested in them switching places when it came to sex; not because he was inconsiderate or naïve enough to think that Cas was the equivalent of a woman in their new, somewhat fucked up relationship, but because the fact was that Dean was and had never thought of himself as anything but a _man_ and the images Castiel was now feeding him through the link certainly did not mix well with the view he had about himself.

He could feel Castiel's mind move closer to his, the angel sensing his hesitation, but when Cas made an attempt to sort through his thoughts and find out what the problem was Dean jerked away, slamming the door around his emotions shut with a vicious bang that made Castiel's brow knot together in startled confusion, his grace sending out a pulse of injured objection through the bond.

_Cas… _Dean scratched the back of his neck, sneaking another nervous look at Bobby who was still buried deeply in the scroll by his desk. _Look man… I understand that you're eager to try out new stuff; I mean… you're literally the three thousand year-old virgin who finally got a break, but I don't know if I'm… I mean I don't know if I can-…_

_If you're worried about possible injuries to your body I can assure you that I would never let that happen._ Castiel interrupted; seemingly horrified that Dean would even think such a thing.

_It's not about that. _Dean objected, slightly berated that Cas in his turn would think that Dean was turning him down because he was afraid of getting hurt._ I've gotten shot, stabbed and carved open more times than I'd care to think about, it's not like I can't take a little pain._ He assured testily, the need to defend his manliness making him feel exposed and just a little on the wrong side of snappish and Castiel's grip around his mind tightened, like fingers closing around and trying the handle of a door.

It was clear that he did not like the fact that Dean was hiding his thoughts about this from him because this was about _them_, and Dean could feel a light tremble of fear course through the angel's grace, because what if Dean was behaving like this because he thought there was something wrong with _Castiel_?

_This has nothing to do with you. _Dean winced, because seriously, that was just ridiculous.

_Then what is it that scares you so?_

_I'm not scared!_ Dean snapped, remembering too late that his own tight grip around the bond pretty much enabled the angel to hear and feel that he was lying just as clearly as Dean could sense Cas' own muffled fear of not being good enough._ I mean I-… it's not like I'm _scared_, it's just-… for fuck sakes Cas, you just told me you wanted to shove your dick up my ass, what do you expect me to say?!_

_I _expect_ nothing._ Castiel answered tiredly, _I made a suggestion, nothing more._ He waited, but when Dean remained quiet he turned towards him with a sigh.

_Dean…_ _I apologize if I crossed a line just now, but please, don't make the mistake to think that I can't tell when I've upset you. There's more to this than just me catching you off guard, but I can't do anything to fix it unless you tell me what's wrong._

The angel reached out a hand and ran it gently across Dean's cheek, thumbing the ridge of his cheekbones with an adoration that echoed through the bond, making the air in Dean's lungs shrink and his chest to draw tight around his pounding heart when Castiel's eyes locked onto his.

_So don't lie to me, beloved..._ Castiel's mind whispered softly. _There is no need for that._

Fuck, suddenly Dean felt so stupid. If there was one person on this entire godforsaken planet that would never judge him for his feelings, then Cas was that person; had _always_ been that person and now he felt as if he had just given the angel a punch in the face, the shame of his behavior burning hot in the back of his throat. He closed his eyes against the intensity of the angel's gaze, unable to face him because even though he kept the barrier around his emotions up he still felt as if Cas was able to see straight into the center of his very soul, those eyes the same stomach-flipping, pulse-racing blue that had always caused Dean's focus to fly right out the window.

Dean had never been good at sharing his thoughts, not with Sam or with anyone, but Cas… even before the merge the angel had always been able to tell just what was troubling him and had always been there to help even when Dean had not offered him as much as a scrap of gratitude in return and he _couldn't_ deny him this, he simply couldn't...

The hand against his face shifted, strong fingers moving back to slide against the nape of his neck and when Dean opened his eyes the angel was still looking at him, his head canted slightly to the side like the very epiphany of concern and with a breathy sigh Dean let the walls around his thoughts fall and crumble to the ground, letting Castiel in once more.

He watched as the angel's brow furrowed, blue eyes squinting as Cas sorted through his line of thought and Dean could feel the other's mind switch from confused to intrigued to something he could only describe as surprise. Dean could feel his own ears turn blazing hot the longer the other looked at him and when Castiel's grace finally pulled back he was certain his face had never been this shade of red in his entire life.

_Dean…_ the angel whispered and Dean's jaw clenched tightly.

_I know… _he winced. _Please, can we just let it go?_

_I didn't know that it made such a difference._ Castiel apologized, making Dean snort.

_Well it does. I mean, it… it's probably not a big deal, not really, but I-… it's just-…_

_It matters to you._ The angel finished and Dean nodded, still staring down at the cushion by his side.

_A bit, yeah._

The angel sighed, leaning back against the couch.

_I would like to tell you that I understand… _he offered,_ but truth to be told I don't._ He looked at Dean, sighing deeply. _You know I would never have brought it up if I had known this._

_Jeez, Cas, don't do that._ Dean rolled his eyes to the ceiling, still without looking at the angel as he did so. _You couldn't have known and I… reacted like an idiot._

_You reacted like your emotions told you to; there is no shame in that. _Castiel objected firmly._ However, I don't see how lying on your back would render you any less of a man. It makes no sense._

_It's not about who's lying where, Cas, okay?_ Dean winced. _It's about the… the whole spreading out and taking it like some kind of…_

_Woman?_ Cas finished and Dean shot him a dirty look from beneath his eyelashes, making the angel sigh.

_Dean…I don't wish to put you in a situation where you're not comfortable, you know that._

_Yeah you've told me that before, remember? And look where we are now._ Dean muttered and Castiel's brow knotted in confusion once more, making Dean shift nervously in his seat.

_I mean… three weeks ago I freaked out just thinking about kissing you and now… _He looked at the angel, the memory of how just being in close proximity to one another used to make him feel nervous and jumpy, now seemingly without reason and he sighed. _Listen, all I'm saying is that what freaks me out today… well it might not freak me out tomorrow? You understand what I'm getting at here?_

Castiel's face remained serious for another few seconds, eyes intently locked onto his and then those full lips moved into a near invisible smile and he nodded once, slowly, making Dean relax against the couch and let out a relieved chuckle in response.

"If the two of you are done making oogly eyes at each other, there's a bewitched child who's going to start screaming for his lunch in about ten seconds unless someone gives it to him." Bobby shot out from his corner of the room and Dean ripped his eyes away from Castiel's face with a guilty pang in his gut. Castiel on his side didn't seem to mind the fact that Bobby had been audience to their little 'moment' and instead he braced himself against the couch, preparing to stand up and do what Bobby had suggested, but he didn't get far before Dean pushed him back down with a firm hand against his chest as he stood up himself.

"I got it." He assured him. "You keep watching your series."

_Who knows, maybe you'll pick up something useful for later?_ He added, quickly moving away to hide a grin when the grace coming from behind him responded by lighting up the bond with a sharp pulse of surprise immediately followed by a wave of raw sexual desire so intense it would have literally floored Dean on the spot had he not been expecting it.

Man, who would have known angels were so easy to wind up?

/\/\/\/\/\/\

The toughest part about the ritual, as it turned out, was the one where they had to make Sam lie still in the middle of the large area that Dean and Bobby had cleared on the ground earlier that day. The child in question, who up until that moment hadn't shown any tendencies to become an aspiring escape-artist suddenly seemed dead set on the task of crawling out of the clearing as soon as they put him down inside it. In the end, when Dean had retrieved the naked runaway for the sixth time in less than ten minutes Castiel fixed the issue by simply flicking his wrist towards the child, causing him to immediately fall asleep mid-crawl. After a quick conference they also went inside to fetch a sheet from Bobby's closet to cover the naked baby up, seeing as he would hopefully not remain a baby for much longer and they all agreed that the younger Winchester would probably like to keep as much dignity as he could once he woke up.

The moon was out, something Dean was very grateful for. Castiel had assured him that the ritual would work just as well whether it was cloudy or not, but seeing the silver globe hanging there on the night sky was still a very much welcomed reassurance. The shadow of the earth had already crawled halfway across the white orb and it would be less than fifteen minutes until it would go completely dark, giving them exactly the amount of time they needed to get the preparations done.

Castiel was going to be the one to read the actual spell, something they had quickly agreed upon when it turned out it was written in a language that went extinct about two hundred years before Noah started building his famous ark, which according to Cas' sarcastic eye roll apparently had been more of a leaky float than anything else.

In addition to the spell they also needed myrrh, hawthorns and the powdered Maritime Squill that Cas had acquired from a specific mountain in Israel along with the blood from a member of the cursed person's bloodline, which Dean provided with a quick slice into the palm of his left hand. It wasn't the most convenient of places to make a cut, but he didn't need to worry about it for long since Castiel reached out and healed him with a lingering touch to his fingertips immediately afterwards before he proceeded with mixing the different ingredients into a ceramic bowl, muttering foreign words under his breath before straightening up.

"The two of you might want to stand back for this." He suggested, giving the two men a look over his shoulder before he slowly stepped into the clearing and kneeled next to the child on the ground. Dean watched as Cas dipped his thumb into the bowl and proceeded by drawing a single, vertical line reaching from the top of Sam's head down the ridge of his nose before retrieving more of the mixture to add a spiraling circle directly over the child's heart.

Dean knew better than to ask annoying questions during situations like this, but he couldn't stop the nervous flutter that appeared in his chest when he watched the angel smear the remaining content of the bowl out in a circle around his brother and he glanced up at the moon, almost expecting to hear the ominous rumble of thunder when the last, shining edge of it was swallowed up by the dark shadow, the once so bright orb now glowering red as if reflecting the blood on the ground before them.

Without thinking about it his mind reached towards the angel and he felt his worry ease when Castiel tightened the grip of the bond in reassurance in a quick squeeze before he returned to the task at hand, his mind focusing as he opened his mouth and began reciting the spell.

The words were low and reminded Dean about some of the Enochian spells he and his brother had come across in the past, but they flowed in a way that the angelic language simply didn't, containing more vowels and syllables that weaved in and out of the air like fallen leaves caught in a gush of wind. If he had to elaborate he'd say that it sounded almost like that elvish language from the Lord of the Rings movies, which in turn suddenly made that fellow Tolkien look a whole lot more suspicious…

At first nothing seemed to happen, and for a few heart stopping moments Dean was convinced that it had failed; that his brother was now doomed to spend the rest of god knows how long as an infant, but then the blood surrounding the baby on the ground seemed to gleam in the darkness, the light slowly growing stronger until the circle looked as if it was made out of hot amber from an open fire, the symbols on Sam's skin mimicking the light and spreading a warm, golden glow over the scene. Castiel's voice grew louder, the words coming out faster, echoing across Bobby's backyard like waves breaking the surface of the ocean and Dean sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth, eyes widening when the small body underneath the ragged sheet slowly began to change.

It was like watching one of those fast-forward-videos of flowers growing on the Discovery Channel; the infant before their eyes stretching and thickening until Dean found himself staring at the face of a brother he hadn't seen since he was sixteen years old. The light around the angel and the boy seemed to crackle and grow, flickering like roaring fire across Sam's face which kept on changing, growing longer and more chiseled, a teenager's features flickering by for a split second before the glow forced Dean to close his eyes against the blinding light.

Dean had no idea how long it lasted; the scorching brightness on the other side of his eyelids preventing him from opening his eyes as the seconds ticked by and his heart was banging inside his chest, the sound of his own pulse echoing like war drums through his head and he needed to _see_, god damnit!

Then Castiel's voice suddenly rang out, the last syllables echoing through the air as the spell ended, a hollow, foreboding silence settling in its place and as if someone had turned a switch, everything went dark once more and when Dean opened his eyes he was met with the sight of Sam's familiar, adult face, the bulky silhouette of his brother's covered body lit up only by the faint sliver of light coming from the moon above where the red shadow had now begun to fade. The flaming circle on the ground was nowhere to be seen, and the symbols on Sam's chest and forehead had completely disappeared, vaporized into nothing as if they had never existed.

Holding his breath, Dean watched Castiel reach out and place two fingers gingerly against his brother's forehead, feeling the other's grace give off a low whisper and then the silence exploded as Sam sat up with a sharp yell and scrambled to his feet in panic, clutching the sheet tight against his body as if he had trouble to determine whether he should use it as a weapon or strangle it as he stared at the three of them, eyes wide and startled as he gulped down deep breaths of air like he had just woken up from a horrible nightmare.

"Sam?" Dean called out quietly while taking a tentative step forward and his brother's wild gaze immediately turned to focus on him with sharp, hostile eyes that held no recognition what so ever, his entire body tensing up in response to his old sibling's voice and Dean stilled.

"Sammy..?" he repeated, his mind grappling for Castiel's to find out what the hell was going on, the panic rising like bile in his throat. "Sammy, you alright?"

Something flickered behind the glaze of Sam's eyes, just a tiny spark of recollection before the lights seemed to come back on and he blinked, his body swaying dangerously from side to side.

"Dean…?" Sam croaked, voice hoarse and strained in the dark. "Dean what-...?" he cut himself off with a groan, a hand coming up to clutch around his head and by now Dean was screaming for Castiel's grace, but the angel remained calm, wordless and silent like a statue.

"Alright… alright, just breathe," Dean urged, easing another step forward, "You're okay, Sam, everything's fine."

Sam took a deep breath, following Dean's instructions obediently and Dean could see the sweat beginning to bead at the taller man's temples in small droplets that glistened in the light of the full moon above, his eyes carrying an almost feverish gleam when he looked up to meet his gaze.

"What happened..?" Sam groaned, "What did-?" His eyes suddenly widened and he jerked his head up, staring around the yard as if he expected there to be an attack coming at any second.

"The witch!" he gasped, "The witch, she changed! She's-!" He whirled around, but whatever words he had been about to utter seemed to shrivel up and die at the tip of his tongue when he spotted Bobby who was still standing silent on his left side. He blinked at the older man, as if not really believing what he was seeing and then his eyes slowly travelled down the length of his own body and that's when he finally seemed to realize that he was standing stark naked, outdoors in the middle of the night with only a sheet clutched in his hands and he quickly secured the fabric tightly around his waist as he turned around to stare at his brother once more, confusion lighting up his face like a billboard.

"Dean…?" He swallowed hard, the tip of his tongue darting out to moisturize his dry lips. "Where the hell are we?"

Dean shot Bobby a quick look from the corner of his eye, but the older man simply shrugged in return.

"What do you mean, 'where are you'?" he asked, "We're at Bobby's. We've been here for almost three weeks now."

"Bobby's?" Sam rasped.

"Yeah, don't you-?" Dean started, frown deepening as he stepped closer. "Sammy, don't you remember anything?"

Sam shook his head, the pace of his breathing slowing down momentarily as he stared down at the ground by his naked feet, seemingly straining his mind to think back.

"I remember there was this bright light." He said eventually. "And then… God, it's all so blurry, just pictures and glimpses… but you were there, and Cas-… but he had like, these big, black wings…"

"Well you got that one down," Bobby snorted and Sam stared at him as if Bobby had just told him he overslept and missed Christmas.

"Cas had wings?" he breathed, turning to stare at the dark haired man who met his look with seemingly calm curiosity. The bond on the other hand was practically tingling with the angel's amusement, as if Cas was watching a child lose its composure over a new toy and Dean snickered, Sam's gaze immediately shifting to land on him instead and Dean could literally see the memories slowly slot into place inside his younger brother's head when Sam's eyes widened almost comically, a shocked, close to horrified expression settling over his face. His hand came up, pointing a single finger at Dean with a choked out wheeze before Sam opened his mouth only to close it a split second later as the finger was redirected towards Cas with a disbelieved squawk.

"You… you and Cas…!" he gaped and Dean raised his hands, chuckling lightly.

"Okay, now this really ain't as bad as it-…."

"_You kissed Cas_?" Sam blurted out and Dean lowered his arms again, rolling his eyes to the sky with a groan.

"Seriously, of all the things you had to remember _that_ first..." He muttered before he shrugged, throwing his hands out in surrender. "Yeah, we kissed…" he admitted, "Though I was sort of hoping you wouldn't remember any of that..." He added when he saw the way Sam was staring at him and he sighed.

"Sam, look… I know it's going to sound _beyond_ weird, but me and Cas… we're sort of…" he flickered a glance at the angel by his side, "… together."

"Together?" Sam looked as if he hadn't even heard the word before and Dean's heart sank in his chest.

"Yeah, as in… You know, like… We're sort of… Oh what the hell - we're married, okay?"

"_What_?" Sam croaked and from behind him Bobby gave an impressed little whistle.

"I mean, we're not _married_, married!" Dean objected, "Not like, with the church and the rings and crap like that, it's more of a…" He grappled for the words, "…soul versus grace thing and we… we have this telepathic thing going on too. I'm still trying to get the hang of it myself, but it's not all that bad and-... uh… it's like… fuck Cas, a little help here?"

He turned to the angel with a helpless wince when Sam simply continued to look as if he was ready to faint right there on the spot the longer Dean kept talking and Cas turned towards Sam, his face calm and almost tender.

"Dean and I are mates." He declared firmly, throwing a pleased glance in Dean's direction.

"Mates?" Sam slurred, still with a firm grip around the sheet around his waist.

"Yes, mates." Cas repeated. "We are joined together on a spiritual level beyond human conception. I believe the closest human kind have gotten to name the process itself is 'wedding', though as I've already explained to your brother that does not even come close to describe what it really is. The Host calls it the _Aisro de Poala,_ meaning the 'Promise of Two', but in all honesty that's just another name for a thing that cannot be defined."

He looked at Dean again; affection and pride beaming like a spotlight at the human who quickly turned away with a flustered smile and a cough.

"And this 'Promise of Two'?" Bobby grumbled, "What does it mean?"

"It means that Dean and I are tied to one another; that his soul is bound to my grace and vice versa. Hence the psychic connection Dean spoke of just now."

"Dean…?" Sam looked at Dean, almost pleading as if he expected them all to reveal the whole thing as a bad joke any second now, but when Dean simply nodded he let out a long, shaky breath, turning his eyes to the ground once more.

"There is no need to worry, Sam." Castiel assured him calmly. "In a sense your brother has been tied to me from the moment we first met."

_What?_ Dean choked and immediately he felt grace skirt up the side of his arm to splay gently over the handprint residing on his left shoulder and he bit the inside of his cheek because yeah, being pulled out of the fiery Pits of Hell by an Angel of the Lord was probably as good a proposal as anyone and he shivered when the ghostly sensation of fingers began to draw devout little circles across the scarred tissue.

How did the bastard do that anyway? Like, Dean had felt grace as a physical sensation before when the grace had fought to escape his body, but this was the second time today that Cas had intentionally used it to mimic the touch of actual hands. He would probably have asked about it had this been any other time, but with the way Sam was looking at them right now he really didn't have the time to linger on some silly angel quirk.

"Yeah, Sammy, there's no need to worry." He repeated instead, resisting the urge to reach up and itch the mark on his arm because the grace _tickled_, damnit. "It's not that big of a change really, just… well, we might have to cash out for separate rooms on our hunts from now on, but other than that things are just as they've always been. Okay?" He canted his head, trying to catch his brother's gaze, but Sam was still staring down at the ground by his feet, looking as if he was about to throw up.

"Sammy…?" Dean repeated and Sam nodded, blinking slowly.

"Yeah…" he mumbled, "Yeah I-… I think I need to sit down..."

"C'mon, it's not _that_ bad." Dean objected, feeling as if he had just received a punch to the gut, but Sam shook his head, his hand coming up to rub against his left temple.

"No, Dean, I mean that I really need to… sit down. I'm-… Oh god my head…"

Both Bobby and Dean were moving before the taller man had even finished his sentence and when Sam's knees went out from beneath him they just barely managed to catch him by the arms and keep him from toppling to the ground.

"Cas!" Dean hollered, but Cas was already there and in a blink the four of them were relocated into Bobby's living room where the two men staggeringly managed to place Sam's rather large body on the couch.

"What's wrong with him?" Dean demanded, kneeling on the floor with his hands skimming over Sam's chest, looking for cuts and injuries that weren't there, but they stilled when he felt the reassuring touch of Castiel's mind soothe the panic rushing through his own.

"He's just tired, Dean." Castiel assured him. "His body grew more than 25 years in less than two minutes. He needs sleep."

"Sleep?" Dean repeated, his body tense and still ready to assume the worst, "For how long?"

"He'll wake up sometime tomorrow." Dean felt the angel's mind sweep past him for a quick moment before it pulled back again. "Around 2 pm." Cas added.

"So he's okay?" Dean insisted. "He's not dying or anything?"

"He's fine, Dean." Castiel promised, a light frown appearing on his face. "Though I should warn you; when he wakes up he'll probably have a craving for more food than what you should let him eat. His brain may not remember, but his stomach is still used to nutrition coming from a jar and too much solid food could make him sick. Other than that he's perfectly alright."

Dean nodded, his head falling down to hang between his shoulders, his hands fisting the cushion beneath his brother's body tightly between his fingers.

_It's over, beloved._ Castiel whispered soothingly and finally, for the first time since dark fell over Sioux Falls Dean felt like he could breathe again and he let out a slow, shaky sigh that seemed to have no end, his entire body seemingly melting down onto the floorboards with a silent thud.

Sammy was alright.

His brother was going to be okay.

He choked out a strained laugh, leaning his head heavily against the armrest of the couch and when Castiel's hand came to rest upon his shoulder he closed his eyes as he reached up to grab it, pouring every inch of his gratitude and relief through the bond while Castiel's thumb moved to silently caress the back of his hand in response.

It was over.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

_**Well… maybe not entirely over.**_

_**So, what will Sam's reaction to his brother's new halo-sexuality be once he wakes up? And will Dean be willing to compromise his masculinity to give Cas the sexual experience he's yearning for?**_

_**We'll just have to wait and see… ;)**_


	14. Chapter 14

Dean ends up spending the rest of the night on a mattress next to Bobby's couch, Castiel pressing in like a solid, comforting weight against his back and mind in the darkness. Dean was fully aware of the fact that the angel didn't need to sleep, but when Cas had retrieved both of their pillows from the guestroom and tossed them down onto the rest of the beddings with a close to defiant look at him, as if to daring him to say anything about it, Dean had accepted the situation without a word. Sam continued to snore quietly by their feet, seemingly safe and sound, yet Dean had not been willing to leave his brother's side just in case something would turn out to be wrong. He had been convinced that he wouldn't be able to sleep at all and he had bluntly refused to let Cas mojo him unconscious, but he had still ended up dozing off sometime after three AM, and he didn't wake up until the intoxicating smell of food originating from the kitchen roused him from his dreamless sleep at around elven o'clock.

The bond inside his head was gone when he opened his eyes, as were Castiel, but this time Dean didn't panic like he had the morning before. Instead he took a few seconds to search out and find that little otherworldly glimmer at the outskirts of his mind and once he did it only took a little push to make the bond flare up again, bright and clear as always. It made him feel close to ridiculously pleased with himself and he continued to practice opening and closing the bond a few times until an annoyed pulse from the angel inside the kitchen told him to cut it out.

Bobby was nowhere to be seen, which meant that he was most likely already out back working in the auto shop and on the couch Sam was still sleeping peacefully. Sometime during the night he had turned over in his sleep and ended up with both legs hopelessly tangled in the sheet still tied around his waist and his left arm twisted into a most peculiar angle beneath his head, but the sight didn't worry Dean the slightest. Sam had always been one for tossing and turning into the most hilarious sleeping positions and seeing him lying there, limbs mildly contorted on the couch was more of a confirmation that everything was back to normal than anything Dean could have hoped to find. He even caught himself contemplating on whether he should snap a picture of the scene with his phone, just so that he could show his brother later once he woke up, but the smell of breakfast won over his mischievous streak and he decided that the photo session could wait until he had gotten something to eat.

Cas made an awesome breakfast like always, even though at this time it was technically lunch, and it made Dean feel all kinds of warm when he saw the angel deliberately set a plate of eggs and bacon aside for Sam to eat later and he was about to open up the bond to share that grateful feeling when a certain memory from yesterday changed his mind. So instead he reached out, focusing on the back of the angel's neck with all he was worth, trying to imagine his hand sliding up to tickle a spot just below the other man's ear, picturing for his inner vision how his fingers brushed over the soft skin of his neck and up to tangle affectionately into the angel's dark hair. It took a few tries, but then Castiel suddenly straightened up abruptly, a sharp spark of surprise opening up the psychic link between them before he turned away from the stove to look at the human with a close to awed expression on his face.

_You learned that quicker than I thought._

_You knew I could do this?_ Dean asked, the grip of his phantom fingers slipping slightly when his concentration was diverted.

_I suspected it._ The angel admitted. _When it comes to the subject of your abilities I can only guess what you'll be capable of, given the time._

_It was actually a lot easier than I thought it would be,_ Dean remarked, underlining the statement by letting his new, incorporeal hands slide down to brush over the angel's shoulder blades and he could actually feel how the other's body shivered in response through the bond, physical and psychological sensations mixing together inside his head.

_Can I do this to other people? _Dean asked excited._ Like, can I give Sam a celestial kick in the ass if I want to?_

_No._ Castiel smiled, genuinely amused and Dean deflated with a sigh, that single word causing millions and millions of golden opportunities to slip between his fingers, but then he looked up, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips.

_Guess that makes you my only playmate then, huh?_ He shot out and Castiel's mind answered with an intrigued interest that Dean immediately responded to by sending him the image of Dean sexually and invisibly molesting him against the sink all the way from the chair he was sitting on. Castiel's brow rose up in a delicate arch of both surprise and approval and then Dean nearly dropped his coffee cup into his lap with a yelp when fingers that shouldn't possibly be able to fit down there cupped him firmly from the inside of his trousers.

_You did that on purpose, you feathery bastard._ He accused and Castiel smirked a confirmation through the bond that made Dean snort out a chuckle.

_Wow, if only the Bible had mentioned a few more angels like you it would have been a freaking bestseller..._

_The Bible is the most purchased book in the world, Dean._ Castiel informed him quietly, but Dean waved him off.

_You know what I mean. Point is that you're one dirty birdie, Cas._

_If that was a reference to my wings then I would like to inform you that they are rather clean._

Castiel shot him a dirty look, squinting his eyes at him as if offended by the accusation, but Dean could sense that the angel knew exactly what he was talking about and just smiled back, letting a few groping touches flow through the bond and Castiel sighed, closing his eyes.

_Dean, this is really not the time._

_What?_ Dean objected, letting his invisible thumb dip down to seductively circle the jut of a hipbone._ It's not like anyone can see._

_You have to forgive me, but your facial expression is not exactly unreadable._ Castiel pointed out dryly.

_I can keep my mask on._

_Is that so?_

Dean's entire body tensed when he felt the unmistakable sensation of a hand rubbing suggestively against his balls and his grip around the cup in his hand tightened with an indignant gasp. He was about to cover his reaction with a sarcastic comment, but when he felt Castiel's smug response to his involuntary sound echo through the bond he straightened up, narrowing his eyes at the angel.

_You really wanna play this game with me, Cas? _ He asked challengingly. _Bobby and Sam are not stupid; you're going to need a good poker face to pull something like that off._

_I'm sure my features won't be a problem,_ Castiel answered confidently, turning back to the kitchen counter.

_Oh yeah? _Dean retorted with a snort. _Not even if I made you cream your pants right in front of them? You think you could handle that?_

_You think I can't?_ the angel shot back over his shoulder and yeah, this was officially so fucking _on_.

_I'm going to make you regret this, _Dean leered, but Castiel only granted him an amused snort and Dean was about two seconds away from giving the angel a taste of what he meant when a low rustle from behind his chair pulled him back to the present. He turned around, eyes widening when he found Sam leaning against the doorway to the kitchen, sheets in a firm clutch around his waist and a hand rubbing tiredly across his face.

"Sammy?" Dean was out of his seat in a split second, ready to do whatever might be needed of him in case Sam was still out of it, but when Sam looked up his eyes were clear and sharp and the smile he sent Dean's way was genuine, albeit slightly confused.

"Hey," he greeted hoarsely, his voice still thick with sleep, "I see you started breakfast without me?"

Dean turned around to look at Cas.

"I thought you said he wouldn't wake up until two?" he bickered, barely avoiding to make it sound as if he was accusing the angel of deliberately giving him incorrect instructions.

"_Around_ two," Castiel corrected calmly along with a nudge of his grace that made Dean sway a little on the spot while the angel glanced at the clock over the kitchen table, "I was only a few hours off."

"A few hours off…" Dean repeated under his breath, turning back to his brother who was looking at the two of them with a brow raised in amusement and Dean quickly cleared his throat.

"So, how are you feeling?" he asked, motioning towards his brother's still half-naked body, "Everything working okay?"

"Actually I feel fine," Sam nodded, halting a moment to stretch out his neck and roll his shoulders back, working out the kinks from his contorted sleep, "A little stiff, that's all."

"Well, with the way you were sleeping I'm not surprised." Dean chuckled. "For a while there you looked like some kind of circus freak."

"Thanks, that's the impression I was aiming for," Sam answered with an eye roll and for a moment Dean was very tempted to ask his brother if he was still flexible enough to shove his foot in his mouth, but he decided to save that one for another time.

"Well…" Dean looked the taller man up and down, "I'd give you a hug, but…." He motioned to the sheet clutched in his brother's hand and Sam chuckled, nodding in agreement.

"Yeah, I… uh… couldn't find my bag so…" he threw his hand out in a helpless little wave and Dean couldn't help but laugh.

"Your stuff is in the guestroom," He pointed in the general direction of the hallway, but when Sam turned around to go where he was being directed Dean quickly stepped in front of him, blocking the way, "You know what," he offered, "why don't you let me get that? The guestroom's kind of-… just, wait here..."

Sam gave him a funny look, but Dean was already halfway across the living room before he had even finished his sentence. He didn't want to scar his brother within the first five minutes of his day by tossing him into the room where Cas and he had been... yeah, he just really didn't want Sammy snooping around in there, it felt wrong in so many ways he couldn't possibly settle with just one.

Sam watched his brother disappear around the corner and down the hallway and then he turned towards Castiel, clearing his throat while giving him a little nod which the angel responded to with a light side-tilt of his head.

"So…" he motioned to himself, "I guess I owe you a big one after all this, huh?"

"What do you mean?" Castiel asked and Sam scratched the back of his neck.

"Well, you _did_ save my life." He pointed out soberly. "I mean, I don't remember much, but I remember you stepping in between me and… whatever that thing was back there and I-… I don't know how I'm going to repay you for that."

Castiel narrowed his eyes at him, as if he was trying to decipher a hidden message concealed within the human's very skin and then he pushed off of the counter he was leaning on with a confused scowl.

"Sam, I saved you because you are my friend, not because I wanted to gain a favor." He explained slowly.

"Yeah, but-…"

"I've gone through this with your brother already," Cas interrupted him. "I don't look after the two of you because I feel obligated or forced to do so. You are my family and as long as I am capable I will do whatever it takes to keep you from getting hurt and as far as I'm concerned you don't owe me anything."

Sam's mouth shut with a mute click of teeth and his eyes darted to the floor as Cas continued to stare him down and then he nodded slowly, a knowing little smile slowly creeping across his lips.

"Well… I guess I can't really argue with that, seeing as you _are_ my brother-in-law and everything." He glanced at the angel and Castiel straightened up, as if that fact hadn't really occurred to him yet and after a moment his face softened and what started as a tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth slowly grew into a genuine smile of his own.

"Yes… I suppose I am." He agreed and Sam chuckled, clearing his throat and trying to act serious when Dean suddenly reemerged in the doorway with his bag. Dean gave the two of them a suspicious squint, as if he had just caught them making fun of him behind his back before tossing the bag to Sam with a fling of his arm.

As Sam bent down to pull out his clothes he watched his brother give the angel a look across the room and even though Castiel's facial expression didn't change his eyes seemed to flare when their gazes locked, a spark as from a tinderbox igniting somewhere deep behind the layer of bright blue and Dean licked his lips nervously, shooting Sam a guarded glance which Sam pretended not to see. Sure, Dean was good at bottling up his feelings, had always been, but Sam recognized an internal conversation when he saw one and it didn't take a genius to realize that whatever psychic connection his brother had mentioned last night was up and running on all available cylinders. He had no doubt in his mind that the angel was currently sharing the nature of the talk they had been engaged in when Dean entered the kitchen and he knew what that look was about. Sam mentioning that he and Cas were now brother-in-laws revealed that he remembered what Dean had told him last night and right now his brother was most likely on the verge of panicking over that very fact.

Perhaps Dean would have preferred it if Sam had simply not been able to recall what he had been told back then, seeing as it all had come blurted out in a rather strained fashion, but in all honesty Sam would not have needed to be told that something between his brother and the angel had changed while he was gone. As he pulled on his clothes he threw the two other men quick glances from the corner of his eye and he had to bite the inside of his cheek in order to keep himself from bursting out laughing because seriously, he had never seen his brother look so absolutely stricken by anything before in his life. His tongue continued to slowly swipe out to moisture his lips repeatedly while he kept his close to dazed eyes locked with the angel before him and even if Castiel had always had a thing for starring at Dean as if he was the very epiphany of adherence the look from his eyes now appeared clearer, less hidden somehow and when Cas brow made a near invisible twitch of confusion Dean's lip twitched up in a little smirk that was worlds apart from the normal flirtatious smiles that he usually handed out like free candy during their investigations. Yup, something had absolutely gone down between the two of them; there was no question about it.

Sam straightened up, noticing that Dean whipped his eyes away from the angel with a guilty strain of his jaw the very moment Sam's eyes landed on him, but once again Sam pretended not to see it and sat down by the table, pulling a pair of socks on and when he sat back up Castiel was setting a plate of eggs and bacon down on the table in front of him.

"Eat," the angel ordered politely, "but slowly."

"Thanks." Sam gasped, grabbing hold of the fork by his side, "God, I feel like I could eat a horse…!" he proclaimed eagerly, raising his arm to dig into the plate, but he stilled when he heard Dean laugh from behind him.

"I hate to break it to you, Sammy, but that's all you're getting until tonight."

"What?" Sam gaped, the hand with the fork dropping back onto the table with a faint clink of porcelain and Dean shrugged, not even trying to hide his apparent gloating on the subject.

"Side effects of the spell." He explained simply, "But don't worry, it's just for today."

"I'm not allowed to _eat_?!" Sam squawked. "Dean, I can't make it through the entire day on just…" he counted the pieces of food on his plate. "…five slices of bacon and two eggs!"

"Sorry, but rules are rules." Dean patted him on the shoulder and Sam turned his pleading eyes to Castiel who simply nodded, setting down a glass of freshly pressed orange juice next to his plate.

"Apologies, Sam, but it's true." He confirmed and Dean chuckled again.

"Enjoy your breakfast," he smirked and then he quickly danced out of the way, just barely avoiding getting a shallow punch to the groin for his trouble…

Five slices of bacon, two fried eggs and a quick angelic checkup later Sam was declared to be completely restored and except for being grumpy about his food the young man seemed to be doing just fine. His memory was fuzzy, mostly consisting of quick flashbacks and frozen images, so Dean and Castiel had to explain exactly what had happened to him from the moment the Grÿla had flung its spell on him that night at the abandoned house. Dean made a big show about how whiny and grumpy Baby Sam had been, not sparing any of the embarrassment that being transformed into an infant could possibly involve. Castiel didn't interfere with his antics, but whenever Dean got a bit too carried away with his exaggerations he rolled his eyes to the ceiling, giving off quiet huffs that clearly informed Sam that the angel did not share his brother's enthusiasm of creative storytelling which was comforting to say the least.

Sam could not help but notice however that Dean did not mention anything about what had happened between him and Castiel and the story involved more than just a few holes and gaps that Sam found himself getting increasingly more curious about, especially the parts where the subject of Castiel's wings seemed to cause his brother's face to flush and the words to catch in his throat. However, when Dean reached the part about how Sam had puked all over said wings Sam's fascination was instantly replaced by a humiliation so strong he wished he could have just sunk right through the floorboards on the spot, ears and neck glowering red with shame as he sneaked a guilt-ridden glance at the angel by his side on the couch.

"It's okay, Sam." Castiel assured him. "It was an accident, and considering the aftermath of it all I believe everything turned out for the best."

"Aftermath?" Sam asked confused, looking between the two men in confusion and Dean's smirk melted right off of his face like had it been washed away with a bucket full of water as he sent a glower the angel's way that could have made a volcano freeze and yeah, Sam decided that he really didn't need to know anything about any aftermath after all.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Later, when Castiel once again had been spellbound by the TV Dean found himself in the kitchen, washing up the dishes after their little lunch-slash-breakfast session. He knew that he technically didn't have to, seeing as he had a celestial insta-maid at his service, but he found the thought of exploiting Castiel's mojo for something as simple as doing the dishes to be a little too much even for someone like him. If Cas came in and volunteered to take care of it he would let him of course, he wasn't going to deny that, but unless that happened he would happily report to kitchen-duty if it inspired the angel to keep cooking that amazing food of his…

He had already finished with the cutleries and was in the middle of scrubbing his way through the plates when Sam joined him quietly, giving him a quick smile before he picked up a towel and began drying the clean plates and glasses in the rack on top of the sink without a word. They stood there quiet for a while, the sounds of water sloshing and porcelain clattering being the only things disrupting the air as they worked side by side and Dean was counting the seconds inside his head, knowing without doubt what would come next because he recognized this game plan far too well not to feel anxious about it. Of course he knew that Sam would have initiated 'the talk' sooner or later and he knew that no matter how many times he had gone over that conversation inside his head his brother would without doubt come up with arguments to why Dean was a thoughtless idiot that Dean would have no idea how to answer. He heard Sam inhale deeply by his side and his shoulders tensed, preparing for the worst, but when his brother finally spoke his voice did not carry any of the chiding, reproachful tone that Dean had been expecting.

"So…" Sam cleared his throat discreetly. "Married, huh?"

Dean threw his brother a quick glance from the corner of his eye and then he nodded, offering the taller man a plate from the sink.

"Yeah…" he confirmed silently, looking away and Sam took the piece of porcelain, carefully wiping off the dripping surface.

"I know I'll probably regret asking," he mumbled, "but… _how_ did that happen, exactly?"

Dean's hands stilled beneath the foamy water in the sink, taking a few seconds of staring down into the iridescent bubbles floating around there before he sighed deeply, closing his eyes.

"Long story short?" he rasped and Sam shrugged, putting the dry plate in the rack.

"If you want." He offered and Dean picked up another plate, working it over with the bristles of the brush in his hand in rough strokes that made the water splatter up over the counter. For a moment it seemed as if he wasn't going to say anything else, but after a while the words began to fall from his lips; short, clinical and professional.

"Cas lost most of his mojo when he saved you from Evil Fake-Witch, you know that already" he spoke into the sink. "The juice he had left started looking for reserves; the closest reserve in this case being… me."

"_You_ had grace?" Sam chuckled and Dean sent him a quick glare, efficiently shutting him up.

"Since the time he put me back together from Hell apparently." He muttered. "Anyway, for some strange reason, when the grace I had responded by trying to get back to Cas it made my body…" he cut himself off, searching for the words, "Lets just say I experienced some really… confusing sexual triggers there for a while before I understood what was going on."

Sam's eyebrows shot up and he nodded, making a gracious point not to make a comment.

"One thing led to another" Dean continued with a sigh, ridding the plate in the sink from the last of its bacon grease, "and before I knew it…." He held out the plate, leaving the sentence uncompleted and Sam nodded again, taking the explanation without question, understanding without further description what his brother was trying to tell him.

"So…" Sam swallowed hard, "It's not something that… you know, you guys did to… like make that ritual work or anything?"

"What?" Dean snorted out, turning towards him with a scowl and Sam actually looked a bit embarrassed where he stood; the plate and towel looking like miniature pieces of a dinner service in his enormous hands.

"I was just thinking…" he objected, "I mean, you sold your soul for me once, and I thought… well you know what I mean." He ended lamely and Dean looked at him, long and steady until he bit down onto his lower lip, nodding slowly.

"Yeah," he admitted, "Yeah I know what you mean… And no, I did not do the halo-version of a Las Vegas wedding just to get you out of your diapers, if that's what you're asking." He added strictly, returning his attention to the frying pan in the sink and another silence lowered itself over the kitchen. Much like the last one, however, Dean knew that it wouldn't last long.

"So you guys are… in love then?" Sam asked warily, ducking his head to seek out Dean's eyes.

"'In love'…" Dean snorted, "Dude, you sound like Oprah."

The question was expected of course, but for some reason it also angered him that Sam would ask him something like that, as if Dean's explanation hadn't been believable enough. The grip around the iron pan in his hand tightened, the scrub of the brush against metal turning even harsher.

"But you _do_ love him?" Sam prompted impatiently and Dean rolled his eyes to the ceiling.

"Wow, aren't you nosy today." He bit out, trying to keep himself from using a harsher description of what he thought his brother was being right now. He wanted this conversation to be over, preferably ten minutes ago. Cas had said that Sam hadn't appeared upset with the fact that he and Cas was an item now, but Dean knew his brother and 'not upset' didn't always equal 'fine with it' either and at the moment is seemed as if Sam had decided to zero in on the task of making Dean admit to the L-word before he continued to tell him what a bad idea binding your soul to an angel was. It wasn't untrue of course, Dean _did_ love Cas; Jesus he wouldn't have married the guy if he didn't, but he couldn't understand why it had to be made into such a big deal!

Sam was still looking at him, waiting expectantly, but when Dean remained quiet he sighed, that annoying, god-forsaken 'I-know-better-than-you' sigh that always managed to push Dean's buttons the wrong way sounding loud and clear in the spacious kitchen.

"Dean, you have to-…" he started and Dean threw the items in his hands down into the sink with a loud clutter, turning towards his brother with a glare.

"What?" he snarled, "I have to do _what_?"

He knew what to expect at that and sure thing, his brother was already doing his usual eye begging-routine and fuck it, Dean had almost forgotten how tough it was to ignore the way those eyebrows knotted together as if Dean was the most precious being ever in need of help and he looked away again almost immediately, hating the water still lapping at the edges of the sink for reminding him of his violent outburst.

He liked Cas and yeah, just the thought about losing him made him want to throw up or stab something, possibly both, but as much as he had accepted the fact that his feelings for Cas exceeded that of a normal best friend with benefits relationship a long time ago he still couldn't bring himself to say it out loud like that. Sure he said it to Cas that one time on the porch, but that wasn't the same thing, not like standing here in the kitchen and admitting it to his brother as if they were talking about some kind of angelic high school _crush_.

'Love' meant that someone was precious enough to lose, and Dean might not be stupid enough to think that a word might change the significant meaning what he and Cas had, but something inside him still screamed and clawed to hold that word back. He had gone through too much; lost too many people to disregard what would happen whenever he showed that he cared for someone and he was not ready to put his and Castiel's relationship out there for the next Big Bad to paw its slimy, rotten hands all over it.

Sam should know all that shit by know, and he probably did, but as always he insisted on this stupid habit of making Dean open up and _talk_ about it instead of just leaving it alone and right now Dean _really_ didn't feel like talking about it, especially if Sam was going to lecture him on his own feelings. His brother was still giving him 'the look' and when Dean turned back to the sink, still without saying a word, the other man's jaw tightened, the next dry plate hitting the rack with more force than necessary.

"Damnit, Dean…" he hissed, lowering his voice to an angry whisper, "If you don't love him then why the hell-?!"

"I never said I didn't, okay?!" Dean snapped just as silently, cutting him off. "I just-…" he bit his tongue, fisting his knuckles against the drenched metal of the sink and Sam sighed, tossing the towel to the side.

"Listen, man…" he started, "I realize that this new… lifestyle of yours must be-…" he swallowed down whatever word he had been about to utter when Dean sent a frosty glare his way, making him bite the inside of his cheek before starting over again, choosing his words more carefully.

"Point is," he clarified, "that I want you to know that I'm not, you know, freaked out by this. If you love him then that's the way things are and… I'm happy for you."

"Oh my god, Sammy…" Dean winced; grimacing at the touchy feely of it all, but Sam ignored him.

"I'm being serious, Dean." He looked to the side towards the living room and the angel sitting on the couch, partially visible through the doorway. "I mean, I've seen the way Cas looks at you and I'm not stupid. I've been sitting back watching this brew for almost two years now, thinking that you one day might actually _get it_, so just trust me when I say that I'm glad you guys finally sorted things out." He turned back to Dean with a shrug. "I'm just surprised it didn't happen sooner, that's all…"

Dean opened his mouth, but closed it again just as fast, blinking dumbly while Sam's words seeped past his thick wall of agitated defense and into his brain.

Two years?

Sam had seen this coming for two _years_?

His brother must have spotted the surprised look of shock on his face because suddenly there was a big paw of a hand on Dean's shoulder, squeezing it tight in reassurance.

"I'm your brother, Dean." Sam smiled, "I know you better than anyone. Cas makes you happy and that's all that matters. Besides," he added with a chuckle, the dimples on his cheeks deepening along with the amused crinkles at the corner of his eyes, "You need to do a bit more than sleep with your guardian angel to shock me nowadays."

Dean didn't know what to say to that, all possible responses sounding strained and flat inside his head, so when Sam let his shoulder go with a final squeeze and walked over to the fridge he just stood there, trying to wrap his mind around the information he had just been told. He heard Sam open the refrigerator door, the sound quickly followed by the familiar clink of beer bottles being pulled off the lower shelf.

"Hey, you want one of these?"

He turned around and saw Sam hold out one of the three bottles towards him and Dean looked at it, watching the pads of Sam's fingers leave traces in the condensation on the glass, small droplets slowly making their way down the dark brown surface before he looked back up and met Sam's honest gaze, peaceful intentions beaming at him like a god damn sunlight and oh what the fuck...

"Open it for me will ya?" He held up his hands, soap bubbles dribbling down his arms and dripping off his elbows and Sam unscrewed the cap with a smirk, setting it down on the counter next to him before turning around and walking out of the kitchen.

Dean watched over his shoulder how his brother took place on the couch next to Castiel, offering him the second bottle in silence and the angel took it without even taking his eyes off the TV, but Dean could still feel the pleased glow of the other's mind seep through the sleeping bond in his head and he returned to the remaining dishes in the sink and continued with the task of scrubbing down the frying pan with a dorky grin that seemingly refused to come off his face.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Bobby came back inside at about half past two and he acknowledged Sam's awakened state by barking at him to get his feet off the coffee table, but Dean could tell that the old man was secretly glad to see the Gigantor back to normal again and if the twitch at the corner of Sam's mouth when he dropped his feet back to the floor was any indication he was well aware of it as well.

The rest of the day was spent in a sort of lazy, afternoon haze in front of the TV. Castiel's fascination for soap operas seemed to be unquenchable, whether they featured fucked up family history, lover's quarrels or even work relations; the angel appeared to drink them all in from his spot on the couch like a thirsting man in the desert downing a glass of water and Dean had to hide his smile behind the back of his hand or a swig of his beer whenever a, to him at least, very predictable plot-twist left Castiel's mind struggling in its wake. His angel was not stupid in any way, absolutely not, but social situations always seemed to get the better of him regardless of his superior intellect and no matter how much Dean knew that Cas couldn't help it he couldn't stop finding it to be absolutely hilarious.

_I think Eric should stay with Claire. That Nicole-woman can't be trusted._ The angel confided seriously, squinting his eyes at the couple on the screen who were just now discussing whether leftover pizzas were supposed to be eaten cold or heated.

_Really?_ Dean asked, hiding his amusement and acting surprised, _I think Nicole's pretty hot. They look good together._

_Don't be ridiculous._ Cas answered sharply. _She's been doing everything in her power to separate him from Claire from the very beginning. I'm telling you, she's up to no good. And Clair brought Eric breakfast,_ he added, almost as an afterthought._ Nicole never did that._

_You really think breakfast is going to be some kind of a deal-breaker here?_

_I'm just saying it's a nice gesture._ The angel mumbled and Dean's eyebrows shot up and he started laughing, earning him a quizzical look from both Sam and Castiel alike.

_So that's why you're so hell-bent on making us breakfast every morning? _He asked incredulously. _Because it's a nice _gesture_? _

_I cook breakfast because I want to._ Castiel objected. _It makes me feel useful. The fact that it's relaxing as well is just a 'perk' as they say._

_As long as it makes you happy, _Dean agreed, _but if you tire of it let us know. Bobby makes a mean omelet, you should try it sometime._

_I'll remember that,_ the angel answered, a bit absentmindedly one might add since the couple on the screen had now moved on from the subject of pizza to discuss the exquisite art of morning kisses.

_Is it really an American tradition?_ Castiel asked, tilting his head sideways in an unintentional mimic of the two humans he was watching, voicing his curiosity about the information the male part of the couple had just shared with his female companion.

_I'd say it's probably a pretty global tradition,_ Dean answered with a shrug.

_We should do that more often then._ Castiel decided and Dean took another drink from his bottle, smiling victoriously against the glass.

_Agreed._ He answered, looking over at the screen where the handsome, young man in the relationship was currently giving the girl a very hands-on lesson in how to perform a proper kiss and an idea instantly sparked to life inside his head.

Castiel didn't make a sound when the phantom touch of Dean's lips brushed over his, but Dean felt the bond crackle with both surprise and then realization when Dean mimicked the instructions coming from the TV.

_You start out slow…_ he whispered quietly, repeating the slurry words originating from the television's old speakers, _and you start out a little like this… _In his mind he tilted his head a bit to the side, noticing how Cas' mouth fell open a bit wider in response. _And then you do a little like this… _he rasped, adding a bit of tongue to the picture and at that Castiel's eyes seemed to lose their focus on the TV for just a second, …_and then you just kinda melt into each other…_ he ended with a dirty suckle to the angel's lower lip.

_Is this part of your plan to inappropriately embarrass me?_ The angel asked, a bit breathlessly Dean noted.

_Maybe I just want to make sure you know how to do this right for later?_ He answered innocently, glancing at his brother to make sure he was not watching them, but Sam had returned to stare at the screen of his laptop so they were good.

_I find the first reason to be more likely. _Castiel retorted, though Dean found his annoyed tone a bit hard to believe since the angel had not stopped mentally kissing him yet.

_You have to admit, this is very convenient._ He purred and Castiel's hand tightened into a lose fist by his side.

_Perhaps, _he admitted. _Though I prefer it the traditional way._

_You're just saying that because you can't keep the mask up._ Dean leered confidently, increasing the pressure of his mind to the point where Castiel's lips seemed to bruise against his.

_I told you, Dean, my mask is good. _The angel groaned. _Your own however I have little hopes for._

_Oh really, then how come you haven't done anything to prove it yet? _Dean retorted confidently.

_I have no interest in humiliating you in front of your family._

_You're just scared,_ Dean teased, _Castiel; The_ _Little Coward Who Cou-..._

He could feel the touch of Castiel's lip tilt up into a secretive smile before he had even finished his line of thought and this time Dean actually does drop his beer into his own lap when the feeling of Castiel's mouth left his only to relocate itself below his waistline a split second later, Dean's fingers fisting down into the cushion of the sofa so hard his knuckles crackled at the feel of a tongue moving over his still soft dick.

Sam who had been sitting in a chair next to them looked up from his laptop, a worried scowl appearing on his face when he saw the look of shock on Dean's face.

"Man, are you okay?" he asked, scowling even deeper when he spotted the wet stain of beer on the front of his brother's shirt.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine." Dean quickly fumbled the flask up from his lap and sat up straight, already halfway out of the couch when Cas decided to hit him a second time and his legs sagged beneath him, tipping him back into his seat with a strangled wince that would have come out as a full blown moan if he hadn't bitten down on his own tongue to keep himself quiet.

By now however Sam is in the process of shoving his laptop out of the way and sprint to his aid, but Dean held out his hand, stopping him with a violent wave.

"I'm alright Sammy, honest." He grated, desperately trying to cover up the next choked out moan with a laugh. "Just a casual case of butterfingers, that's all."

"You sure?" Sam asked skeptically, still with his laptop halfway to the floor and Dean nodded eagerly, giving Castiel's side a hard shove through the bond.

"Yeah, positive." He promised.

"Okay…" Sam mumbled, "You might want to wipe that off though," he nodded towards the spilled liquid on Dean's jeans and Dean turned to the angel with a sharp glare as he stood up, daring him to as much as sneeze this time, but Castiel only met the hard look with what to an outsider would have passed as polite interest.

Eternally grateful for the fact that he was left unmolested all the way into the kitchen Dean ripped a handful of paper towels from the stand on the counter, wiping furiously at the wet spots on his clothes, feeling Castiel's grace focus on him all the way from the couch, studying his efforts with a ridiculously intrusive sense of accomplishment.

_Very funny, _Dean snarled through the bond, but he only got a trickle of mirth and a fluttering sensation of fingers trailing across his ribs in return, making him flinch.

_You know you didn't have to go all out at once,_ he snapped, tossing the remains of his beer and the soaked paper towels into the trashcan under the sink.

_Who said I was going all out?_ Cas answered curiously.

_Don't give me that, you were trying to fucking kill me back there._ Dean grumbled.

_You are being a very sore loser, Dean._ The angel pointed out and Dean snorted out loudly.

_Loser? Oh no, this ain't over yet,_ he assured him, _I'm going to get you, you just wait._

_Of course you are._ Castiel agreed obediently and Dean bit back another startled gasp and gripped around the back of a kitchen chair when something feeling unmistakably much like a slap made impact on his left ass cheek.

"Uh, Dean, there's still beer all over the couch," Sam called from the living room and Dean cursed violently under his breath before snatching another fist of papers from the rack and stomping back out through the doors, ignoring the polite way Castiel moved out of the way to allow him better access to the mess on the cushions .

_You know you should be the one doing this you ass_, he grumbled testily.

_Would you like me to help you? _

_No._ he snapped, doubling his efforts to scrub the couch clean and once again he could feel the bond stretch and swell with the angel's barely withheld amusement and he severed the connection with a sullen tug, wrapping his mind tightly around his emotions while totally not sulking.

Angelic resilience or not, he didn't care how far he would have to go anymore; this meant _war_!

/\/\/\/\/\/\

_**I had to split this baby when I realized that I had a 30+ paged chapter growing beneath the tip of my fingers, so yeah... I hope you liked it anyways.**_

_**Also – extra points if you can name the series and episode that the boys are watching in this chapter ;) It shouldn't be too hard to figure out and some of you might even have seen it already, but yeah, anyway if you can guess it I'll be impressed nonetheless.**_

_**Lots of love to you!**_


	15. Chapter 15

Dean discovered the hard way that Cas had a _very_ good poker face.

As a matter of fact, Cas' poker face turned out to be the hardest thing to crack since the Nokia 3310. Dean pulled out his entire arsenal of sexually inspired weapons, over twenty years of collected, well-acquired experience and he used them to the full width of his porn-infused imagination, but he didn't get as much a twitch of a muscle in return for his efforts.

He tried to mimic the trick Cas had done to him with the incorporeal blowjob, but the angel barely batted an eyelid when the length of Dean's phantom tongue curled around the head of his dick and after a while Dean simply pulled away because what he had planned to be a form of blissful torture appeared to turn into solely 'blissful' the longer he went on. Instead he moved on to shamelessly try and molest the angel while Cas cooked their dinner and he even went as far as to fondle the angel's… 'backdoor', even though it felt extremely weird doing it. He hadn't even been there with his real fingers yet and now he was using some borrowed heavenly power to probe his boyfriend's ass like some kind of retarded scientist who poked around just to see what would happen. To make matters even worse he realized pretty soon that not only did he not have the slightest clue of what he was doing, but apparently he also failed miserably at it which became evidently clear when Castiel slowly turned away from the stove to give him an arched brow from across the room that made Dean want to blush and crawl into a corner in the basement out of sheer embarrassment.

He gave up on touching the angel after that and when they went to bed, Sam once again with his limbs stretched out and hanging over the edges of the couch in the living room, Dean was in a real pissy mood and grumbled out a testy 'good night' into the pillows before Cas had even turned the lights off. The angel had been acting close to apathetic in his thoughts to him during the entire evening and Dean felt more than a little bit humiliated by it. His original plan of getting the upper hand and give Cas a sexually frustrated, living hell had failed beyond the point of words and he just wanted to go to sleep and forget that this day had ever happened. So when the angel climbed down beneath the covers to silently wrap an arm around his chest he tensed up on pure reflex, shoulders squaring and causing Castiel's mind to give off a light flicker of confusion in response.

Dean expected him to say something, but nothing came. Instead he felt the soft tickle of Castiel's hair press in against the plane between his shoulder blades when the angel rested his forehead against his back, a soft breath ghosting down his spine when the other let out a sigh over his skin, wordless, but not without question. They laid there silent for a while; Dean's muscles coiled and hard beneath the touch of Castiel's hand and when the angel finally spoke Dean convinced himself that it was no big deal that his own heart panged with a shame strong enough to make his heart explode inside his chest in response.

"You're troubled," the angel stated silently, but not hesitantly, as if he was describing the state of Dean's hair rather than his mood.

"What tipped you off?" Dean grunted back, wincing inwardly when the words came out a lot more hostile than he had intended.

"Your body language mostly," Castiel murmured. "But also because of this."

The feel of Castiel's warm consciousness pressing against his mind suddenly shifted, drawing together and growing cold, grey and dark like a storm cloud with spikes of razor sharp edges thrusting out and cutting against Dean's senses like prickling needles that made Dean's breath hitch. It was over in a split second and then Castiel came back, warm and golden with rays of light curling over him as if to apologize for the unpleasant demonstration.

"Your mind is a very unforgiving place right now," he murmured against the top of Dean's shoulders, pulling him in closer and Dean swallowed, willing his muscles to relax and allowing his body to go with the gentle force of the angel's arms.

"Sorry…" he rasped and Castiel's grace smoothed down over his back, calm and tender.

"You mind telling me what's wrong?" he asked.

"Not really." Dean answered gruffly, but before Castiel's mind could interject with another mental scowl he sighed, pushing himself up and around to lie flat on his back, glaring up at the ceiling, Castiel's hand moving to splay its comforting weight over his stomach instead, waiting.

None of them said a word for several minutes, but Dean could feel Castiel's grace circle the outskirts of his brain, an anxious slide of power that he knew was being held at bay by pure manners, buzzing with an worry that made the inside of his skull itch in the darkness, the house wrapping it's silence around them like a suffocating blanket. Even the normal creaking and tapping that usually came with old houses seemed to have died down, the entire building holding it's breath in wait for the inevitable.

"You really haven't felt _anything_?" Dean winced out eventually, his voice loud and shattering in the silence and Castiel blinked, the faint shimmer of otherworldly blue reflecting itself in the light shining in from the moon outside when Dean turned his head to glare at him accusingly, providing him with a quick flashback of the many forms of torture the Winchester had attempted to put the angel through over the last hours and Castiel's grace practically rippled with confusion in response.

"Of course I have," he answered, his brow falling into perplexed folds.

"But how-…?" Dean cut himself off when he heard the sulking whine in his own voice and he swallowed it down, trying again. "I mean, if the things I did was affecting you, then… Damnit you didn't even flinch when I went down on you!" he wailed. "Two days ago I had to fucking gag you with your own tie and today you acted like you couldn't have cared less! What the hell happened, man, what did I do wrong?"

Castiel looked at him, long and steady while the grace against Dean's soul sparked and crackled, soaking up the emotions seeping out through the human's defensive barriers and Dean swore he could hear it when the cogs in the angel's head slid into place and the picture became clear, but he wasn't expecting it when Cas suddenly chuckled, looking down to where his hand was still resting on Dean's body, a hint of white teeth gleaming in the dusk.

"What?" Dean scoffed and Castiel looked up, a smile still crinkling the edges of his eyes as the fingers of his grace moved in to brush gently over Dean's lips and then Dean felt as if someone had opened up a door inside his head, information washing over him in a blinding wave of light.

Castiel was an angel. A multidimensional wavelength of celestial intent born out of the center of imploding stars and expanding galaxies, and even though the body he was currently wearing was his now, Jimmy since long gone, it still didn't make it a natural part of him, not completely.

Truth was that there was a very large difference between Castiel's true self and the flesh and blood enveloping and embodying his grace, and this difference, this barrier made it possible for him to alienate one part from the other. This ability was usually utilized when receiving damage to the vessel, like cuts, bullet wounds or broken bones in order to continue fighting without being blocked by physical pain, but it could also in rare cases be used to completely detach all forms of physical sensations picked up by the vessel's nerves, simply because it was convenient at the time.

The rush of this new insight left Dean's mind spinning, his brain going momentarily blind when the bond narrowed and the door closed, but then his eyes widened, a sharp gasp dragging past his lips as he sat up, the covers falling down to bunch around his waist.

"Aha!" He cried, pointing an accusing finger at the angel, "I knew it! You were _cheating_!"

"I wouldn't call it chea-" Castiel started, but Dean interrupted him with another whooping leer.

"Castiel – Cheater of the Lord!" he exclaimed loudly before Castiel grabbed the hand directed at him and yanked Dean down onto his back, rolling on top of the human with a firm glower.

"I did not _cheat_." He declared testily, the threatening tone doing nothing to quench the smug grin rippling across Dean's lips.

"Oh really?" he commented sarcastically. "Then what were you doing?"

"I was defending myself." Castiel objected sourly.

"_Defending_ yourself?" Dean crowed. "You don't get to _defend_ yourself, you idiot! You're just supposed to _take it_; that's the whole _point_!"

"I was not aware of the fact that there had been rules established to this." Castiel answered dryly.

"You want rules?" Dean grinned, pushing at Castiel's shoulder to let him up in a sitting position once more. "I'll give you rules." He held out his finger. "Rule number one; _all shields down_. You don't get to use your freaky vessel-mojo-crap to block me out, capishe?"

Castiel looked at the digit, pursing his lip as if he found this new rule to be just short of offensive, but then he nodded, sighing.

"Yes, I capishe…" he muttered.

"Good." Dean commended, uncurling a second finger "Rule number two; First person who gives up or makes Sam or Bobby realize what's going on, loses the war."

Castiel nodded again and a third digit joined the two already risen from Dean's hand.

"Third and final rule;" he said firmly, catching the angel's eye with a wide grin before whispering dramatically; "_There are no more rules!_"

"No more rules," Castiel repeated obediently and Dean slumped back down, bucking Castiel off of him when he turned over to his side and tucked the pillow underneath this head.

"No cheating, no rules." He concluded happily.

"That's a bit contradicting don't you think?" Cas patronized him, but Dean could feel the light flash of the angel's anxiety course through the bond at the same time as the lowering words left his mouth, making Dean grin even wider.

"Absolutely not." He declared, nestling further down amongst the beddings. "And the first rule is not really my concern anyway since you're the one cheating."

"I told you, I did not _cheat_."

"Whatever, _cheater_." Dean chanted from his pillow and Castiel shook his head with a reprimanding sigh that Dean pretended he didn't hear.

"For a Righteous Man, you have a very poor sense of sportsmanship," the angel pointed out before joining him underneath the covers, body pressing flush against the hunter's back and Dean was glad the angel couldn't see the wicked smile that had sneaked across his lips in the dark.

Righteous Man or not, he was getting his revenge.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

For the first time since he and Cas started sharing the guestroom, Dean woke up to find the angel lying, actually _asleep_ next to him in bed the next morning. Stretched out in a leisurely sprawl across the sheets in a position that didn't seem the slightest befitting an angel of the lord; covers pooled dangerously low around his hips, eyes closed, limbs relaxed and chest rising and falling slowly with breaths Dean suspected wasn't really needed, he looked painstakingly human in the golden rays from the morning sun trickling in through the window.

The contrast between the naked man before him and the angel who had lied down, tense and silent to sleep fully clothed on top of a ragged motel bed only a month ago struck Dean with a nostalgic punch to the face as he allowed his eyes to roam the firm outline of muscles and sharp angels of Castiel's body. How things had changed, for both of them. Who would have known…?

_You're thinking too loud again..._

The corner of Dean's lip tugged up when Castiel's voice drifted through his mind, words drowsy with a faint tingling sensation following in their wake, like when your foot falls asleep and Dean edged a bit closer, wrapping his arm around the angel's waist.

"Morning, Feathers…" he mumbled teasingly against the side of Castiel's shoulder and Castiel groaned out an affirmative 'mhm', shifting beneath his hand.

_Tired?_ Dean asked, to which he was rewarded with yet another 'mhm'.

_I thought angels didn't need sleep_, he whispered, sending the words through the bond with a light caress and Castiel's face burrowed further into the pillow with a sigh, a dark tuft of hair rising to spike out awkwardly from his temple when he turned around to press himself closer to Dean's chest, his breath warm on the top of Dean's collarbone..

_Just because we don't,_ _doesn't mean we can't,_ he murmured back and Dean snickered, leaning over to tuck the unruly wisp of hair back down, smoothing his fingers down the length of the angel's bared neck, but Castiel just shivered, his hand reaching down and grappling for the covers which he then proceeded to pull up high over his shoulder, the bond vibrating with an annoyed huff and Dean's grin grew wider as he retracted his hand.

_What's the matter? Not an early bird today?_

_No,_ Cas answered simply. _And stop referring to me as a bird_.

_Why? You're such a cute bird. _Dean teased. _My own little Blue-eyed Tanager._

_There is no such thing._ Castiel mumbled, the joke obviously flying straight over his head and Dean sighed, tightening his hold around the angel's midsection.

_So what do you want to do today?_ He murmured, trying to keep his thoughts at a pleasant volume. _Wanna go into town? We owe Bobby a new vacuum cleaner…"_ he suggested, but Castiel just shrugged, or rather, he tensed his right shoulder in what would probably have been a shrug had the angel been awake enough to perform it, but apart from that there was no answer from the angel and Dean glanced down that the sleeping male with his brow raised.

_Or we could go to Disneyworld_, he offered sarcastically. _Meet Pocahontas, buy one of those dorky Mickey Mouse hats and then I can watch you throw up behind the hot dog-stand after the roller coaster turns your stomach inside out._

He waited, expecting there to be some sort of response, but Castiel just nodded against his chest before tilting his face up with a tired moan and Dean sighed again, giving up his attempt to snuggle the angel into a more awakened state of awareness.

_Does this mean that you're taking a celestial sleep-in then?_ He asked.

_It does. _Castiel answered, his head falling back even further, baring his face almost expectantly to the morning light.

_Alright, _Dean eye-rolled with a snort, leaning in to press a quick kiss to the angel's forehead. _Just don't drool on my pillow._

The response was another, somewhat grouchy huff of breath, and even though he had just stated that he wanted to sleep the angel's grace gave off a sharp pulse of disappointment when Dean pulled away to crawl out of the bed. Dean ignored it, instead proceeding with pulling on his clothes as quickly and silently as he could before he padded across the room and slipped out the door with only a fain creek of the floorboards while Castiel stayed curled up, sullen and annoyed in the back of his head.

As he entered the kitchen he wasn't the slightest surprised to see that his brother was already awake and dressed, the wet patches covering his grey t-shirt bearing silent witness to the fact that he had already had the time to go for one of his morning runs, the health freak. Over by the stove Bobby was in the middle of making breakfast, sausages and toast from the looks of it, and he greeted Dean with a low rumble of 'morn'n' as the oldest Winchester took place by the table opposite to his younger brother.

"Smells good, Bobby." Dean commented, stealing away Sam's unguarded cup of coffee. "Can I have some too?"

"Why, you tired of angel-cooking?" Bobby shot back, turning around to send a searching look over Dean's shoulder. "Where's Angel-boy?" he asked.

"Sleeping." Dean answered with a shrug, taking a deep gulp out of the warm beverage. "He didn't want to get out of bed."

"Angels sleep?" Sam asked, the surprised arch of his brow turning into a scowl when he spotted his cup in Dean's hands and he unceremoniously reached across and snatched it back, leaving Dean grappling around thin air with a disappointed pout.

"This one does, apparently." He grumbled, leaning back in his chair and watched Sam empty the drink with a defiant glower. "I swear, give him another two weeks and he'll be shuffling around the house in his underwear and a t-shirt."

At the other side of the table Sam snorted loudly into his cup.

"What?" Dean demanded testily and Sam shook his head, placing the now empty mug back down on the table.

"Trouble in paradise?" he asked politely and Dean crossed his arms over his chest.

"Why? Because he wouldn't get up when I did? It's not like I keep the guy on a leash." He muttered and Sam chuckled.

"Well, something's got your panties in a bunch," Sam pointed out, "You guys had a fight or something?"

"Not that it's any of your business, but no." Dean snapped and Sam raised his hands defensively.

"Just trying to have a conversation here." His eyes narrowed, a smirk pulling at his lips. "If you're gonna bite off like that maybe it would be better if Cas put a leash on _you_?"

Dean glared at him, but he didn't answer. Truth to be told he didn't think Cas would mind having him on a leash, seeing as the angel was one perverted son of a bitch, but _please, _for the love of all things manly, Sam better not give the dude any ideas!

He got up from his seat and stalked over to the cupboard, retrieving another cup and a plate for himself along with a knife and fork before returning to his seat, throwing the tableware down with another sour glare at Sam who was busy pretending like he didn't notice. Bobby looked at the new plate and sighed, rolling his eyes to the ceiling as he went to get some more sausages from the fridge, muttering something about being eaten out of the house all over again.

The food already cooked ended up on Sam's plate, which Dean left alone first after a failed attempt of stealing Sam's toast ended up with his thumb getting stabbed by a fork, and as Bobby poured the new set of sausages into the frying pan Castiel emerged in the doorway, Dean's apocalyptic prediction of underwear and t-shirt proving to be untrue as the angel was dressed in his usual white shirt and slacks, suit jacket casually absent.

"Good morning." Castiel greeted and Bobby's 'morn'n' got drowned out by Sam's enthusiastic 'oof mpffhm' that came rolling out around the food in his mouth as the angel took place by the table on the chair next to Dean's.

_Birdie not sleepy anymore?_ Dean teased and Castiel rolled his eyes to the ceiling.

'_Birdie' _could_ not sleep anymore_, he corrected. _Especially not after your inconsiderate departure._

_Inconsiderate?_ Dean asked, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye. _Dude I was quiet as a mouse!_

_I'm not talking about your volume._ Castiel muttered, seemingly fully content with studying the tabletop rather than looking at Dean.

_Then what? _Dean asked, the response being an immediate flash through the bond, an image depicting a young man and a woman leaning over a pizza box coming into view and something clicked in the back of Dean's brain as he recalled the angel's expectant tilt of the head from before.

_Oh…_ he thought, a lewd grin slowly spreading across his lips. _You wanted a morning kiss?_

_I believe I was _promised_ one_, the angel retorted testily and Dean snorted out a laugh.

_Then why didn't you just say so? I thought you wanted to be left alone._

Castiel looked at him then, a contemplating furrow appearing on his brow.

_I was under the impression that good morning kisses were to be engaged in spontaneously, _he mumbled._ Propositioning you for one seemed… inappropriate. _

_You wanted me to _want_ to kiss you,_ Dean concluded wisely, taking a drink from his own coffee cup, still smiling. _That's some serious chick flicking, man._

Castiel tilted his head, looking even more confused.

_One of these days you're going to have to explain the connection between emotions and poultry more clearly, Dean. I still don't understand your obsessive need to bring up chickens whenever we have these kinds of conversation._

_You know what, if you're going to be this grouchy in the mornings, I suggest you lay off that whole sleep-thing._ Dean teased and Castiel snorted, looking out the window.

_The process of awakening could indeed be more pleasant,_ he agreed. _Though it was my belief that morning kisses would be a more agreeable experience if exchanged while still half asleep._ He admitted and Dean put the cup down, turning in his seat to face the angel who abandoned the view in favor of meeting his gaze.

_Alright, hold up._ Dean squinted at him. _You're telling me the reason you slept was to make a kiss _feel_ better?_

_Yes._ Castiel answered, as if his response to that question should have been obvious and Dean had to look away for a moment, the sincerity in the angel's eyes verging on the brink of painstakingly hilarious.

_Cas-… _he choked on his own thoughts, words failing him as he searched for a way to describe how utterly _typical_ and adorable he thought that was and instead he let out a defenseless chuckle, shaking his head while hoping that the angel would not take his reaction as an insult.

On the other side of the table Sam had been watching them, eyes flickering between them both as if he was watching a ball in a tennis game, his toast raised halfway to his mouth and when Dean started laughing the corner of his lip twitched, as if he had just heard a joke that he wasn't quite sure he'd understood right.

"What are you guys talking about?" he asked and Cas squinted his eyes towards the snickering human at his side, calculated suspicion evident in the way he narrowed his eyes at Dean's face.

"Morning kisses." he answered without missing a beat and continued before Dean had any chance to stop him. "Yesterday Dean told me it was an important human tradition, but today he wouldn't give me one."

Sam's brows shot up, as if honestly shocked about this news, but Dean could see the devilish glint in his little brother's eye when he redirected his gaze from Castiel to him.

"Really, Dean?" he asked in disbelieved shock. "That's pretty inconsiderate of you."

"It was a matter of speech," Dean grumbled out. Over by the stove Bobby turned to glance over his shoulder, obviously listening in on the conversation and Dean did not like the way they were all looking at him, as if they expected him to do something. Something like...

"C'mon," Sam grinned, "give your husband a kiss."

…like _that_.

"Shut up, Sam." he snorted.

"Why not?" Sam insisted. "It _is_ tradition. You wouldn't want to dishonor such a thing, would you?"

Dean aimed a kick at his brother's knee under the table, but he missed, stubbing his toe against the leg of a chair instead and he bit back a low curse as he hid his pained grimace by diving into his coffee cup, knowing without having to be told that he was now blushing like an idiot.

"They say there's no better way to start a new day than with a good, long kiss," Bobby suddenly butted in from the other side of the kitchen and Dean nearly spat his coffee out with an undignified squawk because now they were _ganging up_ on him! Across the table Sam was wiggling his eyebrows like some kind of creepy pervert and next to him Cas was looking at him, an expectant glow in those blue eyes that reflected the demanding inquiry Dean could feel vibrate inside his head and damnit he just wanted to eat breakfast for god's sake!

He glared at his brother, making sure to pour every ounce of malice he could muster into the look before he leaned over and pressed a defiant kiss to the corner of Castiel's mouth, thinking that it should be enough to make them stop mocking him, but when he pulled back Castiel was frowning, a low throb of dissatisfaction radiating off of his body and when he glanced to the side Sam looked as if he was about to burst out laughing hysterically at any second.

"You call _that_ a kiss?" Sam snickered, shooting a glance at Bobby who chuckled, shaking his head and Dean's jaw tightened, looking back at Castiel. The angel was still frowning at him, confusion evident on his face as if he didn't quite understand what was happening and Dean licked his lips, biting back an exasperated groan when the creases on the angel's forehead deepened and then he decided that, oh, to hell with it!

His hands came up to grab around the angel's jaw, pulling him in for a kiss so deep it stole the air straight out of that shirt-clad chest and when Castiel's hands grappled around the sleeves of Dean's t-shirt, lips parting in a startled gasp, Dean shoved his tongue into the angel's mouth with a possessive force that rippled through the bond, determined to wipe the smug grin off of his brother's face once and for all.

When they finally pulled apart after god knew how long, Dean was trying his best to act unaffected, releasing the angel's lower lip with a wet pop, but Castiel on the other hand was giving him a wide, slightly cross-eyed stare with pupils blown to hell in a way that made diving in for another kiss seem like an extremely good idea, and then the shocked gape of the angel's mouth slowly morphed into a lopsided grin as a little huff of laughter escaped those shiny, spit slicked lips.

Dean gave the angel a third, swift kiss through the mind link before he turned back to the table, noting with satisfaction that his brother was looking as if he had trouble deciding whether he should laugh or run away screaming.

"There, you happy?" he demanded, his leg unconsciously leaning against the angel's under the table, Castiel's knee shifting to press back gently in response.

Sam opened his mouth and turned towards Bobby who was wearing a very similar expression on his face, but the moment their eyes locked Sam's eyes began to gleam and before Dean knew it Bobby was hiding a smile by turning back to the stove and when Sam looked at Dean next he was openly grinning.

"You two are so adorable." He cooed and Dean's triumphant joy instantly ebbed out into a sour puddle on the floor.

"You know what, fuck you." He snapped, looking up when Bobby walked over to dump a load of sausages on his plate along with a steaming slice of toasted bread. "Both of you" he added testily.

To his disappointment none of the two men stopped grinning at him and he dug in to the food on his plate with a sour glare at them both.

This was fucking stupid, why did they have to make such a big deal out of a stupid kiss? They already knew that Cas and him were… intimate, why did they find it necessary to rub it in his face?

One of the sausages on his plate received a vicious end of a knife before it was stabbed again by the fork and brought up to his mouth in order to get properly punished for its existence.

Sure, he used to tease Sammy about kissing girls and stuff, but that's was different! Sam was his little brother he was _supposed_ to give him a hard time about those kinds of things! Besides, how come they didn't jab at Cas about being the one who wanted to kiss _him_? Huh? How come he was spared the catcalls and humiliation?

He threw a cross glance at the angel by his side who had now returned to looking out the window, studying the bright morning outside with calm fascination, that goofy grin of his having faded into a more serene smile and Dean bit down on the inside of his cheek.

Only seemed fair that the angel got to taste embarrassment like he had... or at least got a hint of it.

He sent a fleeting touch towards the angel's back, letting a spiritual palm rub a slow circle between the other's shoulder blades and Castiel's mind sighed contently at the touch, Dean's fingers coaxing forth a slow bat of eyelids when they slid up through the angel's hair, caressing his neck before dropping back down again to trail along the spine to the lower back. The angel's hips received an affectionate squeeze before Dean proceeded to knead at the firm muscle of his thighs, slowly moving further and further up and then the appreciative hum coursing through the bond seemed to stutter and Castiel abruptly straightened in his seat, jaw tightening when Dean's hand cupped him through the dark slacks, rolling the weight of his balls in an invisible hand.

_Ah… _Dean mused,_ so the shields _are_ down?_

Castiel's grace gave off a low spark, his eyes widening just slightly as his mind moved away from the scenery outside.

_What are you doing?_ He asked, his voice calm and dry inside Dean's head and Dean answered by sliding his hands over Castiel's flaccid penis, feeling the length of the angel's leg twitch against his knee.

_Is this really necessary?_ Castiel asked, still sounding more bored than anxious, but Dean could feel that he was getting there, albeit slowly.

_What? _Dean mocked._ You can't handle the pressure with your mojo out of the game?_

Castiel swallowed, his gaze hardening as he continued to look out the window with a stern face and then Dean nearly bit his tongue off when the steady pressure of a hand settled over his groin and started rubbing up against him under the table.

The startled hitched of his breath sent a triumphing spark through the bond and Dean quickly got a hold of himself and straightened up, his eyes locking onto the sausages on his plate.

_Asshole_, he grumbled through the link. _At least I gave you some warning._

_No rules, remember._ Cas reminded him politely. _Or perhaps you've changed your mind?_ He added, an curious tone seeping through the thoughts aimed at the human's mind, mocking him and Dean's resolve hardened because oh no, he was not backing down from a fight he himself had started, not a chance.

Dean let the thought of his hands move, closing around and moving over his boyfriend's rapidly hardening erection in steady strokes that Castiel was not late to mimic and the fingers holding on to Dean's knife and fork flexed against the metal when the warm touch of angel grace coaxed him into full hardness, causing his jeans to tent below his waistline.

There was no room for teasing, that option was since long gone. Right now it was all about trying to get the other to lose or give up first while keeping your own arousal in control. The feeling of hands, fingers, lips and tongues that weren't actually there battled against will and resolve, both of them shielding their thoughts to hide their intentions while keeping the bond open in order to seek out the other's weaknesses and holy hell, this shit was _intense_!

Still, keeping their semi-mental actions hidden from Sam and Bobby turned out to be remarkably easy.

At first.

After a while however, Dean found that focusing on breaking the angel's defenses, staying silent, eating and keeping his attention at the conversation around the table all at once was more than a little bit challenging.

Bobby had been talking about some new kind of devil's trap he had found in a book somewhere while Sam, being the nerd that he was had been completely spellbound by the news and Dean had so far only been required to add the occasional 'really?' and 'awesome!' to the conversation to remain inconspicuous. Castiel was quiet, which was only natural since he never spoke more than he had too and Dean found this obvious advantage highly unfair; especially when the pad of a thumb swiped down to press just lightly against the slit of his own cock, making him near choke on his food. Luckily, he managed to avoid suspicion, even though just barely, by coughing and gesturing apologetically to the half-eaten slice of toast that he had been in the process of eating and Bobby had given him the 'idjit'-glance while Sam sighed, rolled his eyes and informed him that 'it's called chewing, Dean, you should try it'.

Dean's momentary defeat seemed to inspire the angel even further and when Castiel began to tongue his way up Dean's shaft in cruel, swiveling swipes Dean had to wrap his ankles around the legs of his chair to keep himself from squirming in his seat. He wasn't going to lose damnit! He'd rather bite his own tongue to the point of bloodshed rather than giving up! Admitting defeat would be worse than anything Cas could possibly put him through and he was not going to give the angel the satisfaction of kno-oh _god_, that felt good! That felt so fucking good, holy _shit_...!

He took a deep swig out of his coffee, using the hot beverage as an excuse to let out a muffled sigh through his nose and he could feel Castiel's grace coil tighter around him, almost seeping under his skin.

_Give up, Dean_, the angel suggested quietly. _Spare yourself the humiliation._

_Not a chance, _Dean bit back, focusing even harder on his own task, adding a teasing lavish over the angel's left nipple to the movements and he barely managed to suppress a grin of his own when the angel's leg instantly gave a new, involuntary jerk in response, hitting the underside of the table with an audible thump.

He quickly abandoned Castiel's nipple in favor of wrapping his lips around the head of the angel's cock, aggressively suckling and lapping at the tip and for a second Castiel's grace seemed to blank out, losing its footing completely and triumph bubbled up inside Dean's chest, a hopeful glimmer of victory bursting through his mind. Then Cas suddenly had more than two hands on his body, a dozen fingers skirting over his neck, dragging down his shoulders and teasing the back of his thighs and shit fucking shit, Dean should have thought about that, why the hell didn't he think of that?!

The control of his mind slipped, his ability to focus his intentions falling through his fingers like fistfuls of sand and just like that Castiel was out of his reach, leaving him unable to retaliate the new assaults of pleasure on his body and instead he found himself incapable of doing absolutely nothing but to concentrate on how to keep his breath and hands from shaking as he continued to eat.

_Had enough?_ Castiel asked through the bond when Dean brought a trembling slice of bread to his mouth, but when the human only gave him an unfocused glower in return he sighed and Dean moaned out loud when a sudden, slick vacuum wrapped around his cock at the same time as he bit down into the crust of his toast.

_Table manners, beloved, _Castiel scolded, his unabashed amusement trickling through the bond when Dean looked up and saw the confused way Sam, Bobby and even Castiel the smug bastard were looking at him and he let out a strained chuckle, pointing to the bread in his hand.

"This is one hell of a toast," he exclaimed, closing his eyes and moaning dramatically while biting into his food anew to hide the way another stroke from Castiel's grace made his body break out in a vicious shudder.

"Glad you like it," Bobby commented hesitantly and Sam rolled his eyes to the ceiling_ again_ because trust his brother to find a way to make having breakfast seem obscene.

Dean kept his mask up, reaching out to grab his coffee cup to wash the food in his mouth down, but when his fingers wrapped around the sleek surface of porcelain he realized with dawning horror that he wouldn't be able to lift it without shaking, even less so drink from it. He swallowed hard, forcing the food down his throat even though his tongue was lying flat and dry against the bottom of his mouth, his pulse banging against his head and his lungs shrinking inside his chest, the oxygen level of the room seemingly decreasing with every passing second.

Castiel's fingers were teasing his nipples softly, twisting and flicking over the two nubs with a pressure that should be downright illegal and Dean was doing his best to keep still, his shoulders pulled up, tense and unyielding while quakes of pleasure rippled through his nerves, the grace playing over his skin in low, humming vibrations.

He knew that he had no chance of regaining the upper hand in this, that the only way to survive would be to simply endure and hope that he would make it to the other side in one piece because he still _refused_ to give up. His pride would not be able to handle the humiliation of both his brother and his boyfriend all in the course of one morning so instead he gritted his teeth and huffed out a breath through his nose, biting the inside of his cheeks to keep his mouth shut while staring down at his plate as if it was the last scrap of sanity left in the world.

He could hear that Sam and Bobby were talking again, his brother going on about how he needed a new charger for his phone while Bobby tried to convince him to simply get a new phone since those new models broke far too easily to be considered hunter-material.

"What do you mean, 'breaks'?" Sam asked incredulously. "I've had it for months and it works just fine."

"Trust me," Bobby winced, pointing at Sam's smartphone with the tip of his fork. "Those things are nothing but trouble. Garth managed to screw up three different models in no time at all."

"Garth can screw up _anything_ in no time at all." Sam pointed out patiently.

"Doesn't mean the phone is any good." Bobby retorted with a stubborn snort.

Dean was biting his lip now, his hands clutching around the silverware with knuckles whitening as they continued to cut shaky pieces of the sausages on his plate, the fork continuously missing its target and the knife clattering against the porcelain as Castiel kept working him over, altering between jacking him off with slow, teasing little jerks and really fisting his cock in rough, fast strokes that made the breath catch in the back of his throat.

"So you're saying that my phone is crap?" Sam asked defensively.

"I'm not sayin' it's crap, I'm just sayin' it's not exactly hunter-friendly." Bobby objected.

"I don't think there's any phone that's hunter-friendly, Bobby."

"Sure there is."

"Really, like what?"

A strangled whimper was fighting its way up Dean's vocal chords and he could feel the coppery taste of blood on the tip of his tongue as he bit down even harder on his lower lip, forcing the sound back down with a light tremble to his jaw. He had finally managed to catch a piece of food on the prongs of his fork, but at the moment he couldn't bring himself to raise it from his plate because in order to eat he would have to open his mouth and _that_ would end in disaster.

Castiel was watching him intently through the bond, he could feel the angel's attention move over his mind, poking and probing for him to give something away, to reveal just how close he actually was, every lazy slide of grace making the muscles in his body spasm and Dean could no longer say if the lights flashing through his brain were there signs of a pending orgasm or an aneurism, only that he wanted, _needed_, but feared the horrible price he knew he would have to pay for it.

"Motorola?!" Sam winced. "Seriously, Bobby, are you kidding me?"

"There's nothing wrong with Motorola." Bobby muttered.

"Sure, if you don't mind carrying around a _brick_." Sam stated firmly. "What about that phone we got you, Cas?" Dean tensed when his brother turned towards Castiel, snapping his fingers rapidly in demand of an answer.

"Nokia." Castiel responded calmly and Dean would have been willing to stab himself with his own god damn knife if it would have justified him to make a sound above that of a breath because now the feathery bastard was nibbling at his ear as well!

"8800, I believe." Cas added thoughtfully, as if half his attention wasn't busy dragging Dean towards the brink of an orgasm with every passing second and Sam threw his hand out in triumph to the angel's answer.

"See?" he said victoriously. "_There's_ a phone that lasts."

"The older models, maybe." Bobby muttered, but Sam would have none of the older man's objection.

"Cas, would you say that your phone is durable?" he inquired solemnly.

"It survived the effects of a banishing sigil twice," Castiel nodded and this was just not fair, how the hell could he sound so god damn _calm_!? "I'm not an expert on phones, but I know of few other man-made things that could be hold accountable for the same feat."

"Exactly!" Sam cheered, turning towards Bobby and opening his mouth, but Dean did not get a chance to hear what he was about to say because then there was a swipe of something moving behind the weight of his balls, a zip of warmth followed by a shallow rub of grace against a part of him that _definitely_ wasn't used to being involved in near-climax situations and without warning Dean's body tensed up, the knife and fork slipping unguarded out of his grip with a loud clatter when the unmistakable rush of an orgasm shot up his spine, white flashing in front of his eyes and shit this wasn't working, he had to-… he couldn't-… oh god, Cas… Cas, Cas, fuck, _Cas_…!

"Jesus, fucking _Christ_!" he groaned, slamming his fist into the table so hard it sent his plate clattering, his hips pushing forward into thin air with his cock pulsating as it released scorching hot inside his pants. The world was swimming before his vision as he slumped against the table and buried his face in his hands, biting out another groan through gritted teeth while his dick made a last, feeble twitch against his soiled boxers.

_Now _this_ I can't wait to see… _

Dean's eyes shot open, staring groggily down at the table between his elbows when Castiel's amused thoughts pushed through the buzz inside head and he looked up, coming face to face with Sam's shocked face and Bobby's scowl and he froze, eyes widening in panic because _shit_! Shit, shit, _shit_!

For a heart-wrenching moment the world seemed to stand still, giving Dean's fucked out mind plenty of time to go through all the possible ways he was about to get publicly humiliated before it all slammed back into gear in a flush of sound and color, leaving him grappling inside his head for something, anything to say...!

"Dean, are you-…?" Sam started, sounding more worried than horrified and Dean blinked away the last of the fog from his vision, forcing his brain into a jumpstart as he straightened up with a snarl, shoving his plate away.

"It's a _phone _for fuck sakes!" he rasped out sharply, letting faked annoyance drip from his mouth. "Give it a rest, will ya?" His chair screeched loudly against the floor as he abruptly stood up and turned away, stomping out of the kitchen and into the living room with slightly wobbly steps, the only thing in his head being that he had to get the hell out of there before the mess inside his boxers started seeping through the front of his jeans in tell-tale patches.

"Hey, where are you going?" Sam called out after him, as if he suspected that Dean was about to go do something incredibly reckless and stupid.

"In to town!" Dean snarled carelessly over his shoulder, not even slowing down the pace. He didn't want to provide Sam with the chance to give him the whole 'what the hell is wrong with you"-speech.

"Really, _now_?" Sam asked, staring at Dean's half finished plate of food still sitting on the table.

"Yes, _now_!" Dean snapped back.

"Would you do me a favor and pick up a new charger for my phone while you're there?" Sam shouted, just as Dean rounded the corner and into the hallway.

"Fine!" he yelled, hurriedly striding down the corridor and fleeing – totally _not_ fleeing - into the guestroom to get his jacket and change out of his increasingly uncomfortable pants, slamming the door shut behind him before he collapsed onto the unmade bed, burying a agonized groan into the pillows.

Damn angels and their freaky telepathic skills!

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Sure, it hadn't been the most immaculate rescue, but given the circumstances Dean was pretty damn proud that he had managed to pull it off at all without getting caught. Still, since his darling brother apparently had been struck by the marvelous realization that he could use Dean as some sort of errand boy he was now forced to spend his time - and gas money - on a trip into town instead of getting back at his sadistic boyfriend.

Sam had insisted that Cas should go with him, undoubtedly in an attempt to force them into fixing whatever trouble he thought they were having since all _he_ had seen during breakfast was two grown men who refused to even look at each other while not uttering a single word, covering his annoying meddling up by suggesting that some fresh air would only do the angel good.

After a quick flicker of eyes in Dean's direction however, Cas had politely declined the offer, saying that if he wanted fresh air he could get it without problem and Dean, who knew about Castiel's recent trip to Israel decided not to push the subject further either, actually grateful that he could now use his time in town to plot his revenge against the angel instead and Sam let the subject go with a scolding look in Dean's direction, as if it was Dean's fault that the angel didn't want to leave the house.

Castiel had in fact not said anything since Dean's abrupt departure from the kitchen, not physically nor mentally, but Dean didn't think much of it. After all, what was there to talk about other than the fact that Castiel had successfully managed to make Dean orgasm in the middle of breakfast? No, there was nothing to say, and to be completely honest Dean did not feel like striking up a conversation either, perfectly content with waddling around in his defeat without any snarky, angelic comments.

He announced his departure from the house with a short 'see ya later' aimed into the living room as he passed, keeping up the appearance of being in a bad mood as he quickly made his way out back where he and Cas had parked the Impala a few weeks before when Sammy was still in a baby carrier.

Seeing her standing there, a few stray leafs having plastered themselves to the windshield it struck him long it had been since he last drove his baby and he almost felt a little bit guilty for having forsaken her like this. When he fired up the engine however, the blissful tunes of AC/DC immediately came blasting out through the speakers, crisp and clear, so apparently there were no hard feelings and he allowed himself a quick drum solo against the wheel before turning the car around to head out of the yard.

As he watched Bobby's house become increasingly smaller in the rearview mirror his chest seemed to tighten around his lungs, the thought of consciously leaving Cas behind for the first time in over a month making him feel both lonely and just a little bit like an ass, but if he focused he could still feel the angel's presence in the back of his head, the little gleam of consciousness calming him down and enabling him to relax. Castiel wasn't going anywhere and it was about time they got some privacy from one another anyway. They had been practically living inside each other's head for several weeks, not even counting the weeks Cas had been stuck with total insight of Dean's grace-perverted mind and even if Dean didn't find it annoying or anything he still wouldn't mind a bit of alone time, if only for a few hours.

Yeah, surely that could only be considered healthy and he carefully pulled away from the connection inside his mind, shielding himself from the mental link temporarily as he drove so that even if Castiel was still evidently there and able to follow and feel him, their thoughts were left out of the other's hair. Because really, what was the use in plotting revenge if the subject could hear what you were thinking…

The trip into town went far too fast for his liking – damnit, why did the best part of a song always have to come when you were about to turn the radio off? - and he reluctantly parked the car by the local Radio & TV store and went inside. He had to ask around to find the right type of charger since really, technology wasn't his forte and Dean had only had the presence of mind to register the brand of his brother's phone, not the model, but after a few minutes of 'guess-the-device' with the personnel he was soon back in the car, singing along to 'Thunderstruck' for all he was worth until he parked outside the local gas station and got out to fill up the tank.

Once the tank was full he went inside the store, thinking that he should pick up some more beers and maybe some snacks for later. Wonder if Cas would like chips or popcorn better? Or maybe Cheetos? He didn't seem like the pretzel kind of guy, but then again, there were a lot of things that Dean would have said Cas didn't seem like that he had already been proven wrong plenty of times over, so one could never be too sure.

He made his way resolutely down the parallel isle, passing row after row of items until he reached the back of the store, only to come to a screeching halt when his gaze landed on something out of the corner of his eye just as he was about to turn the corner.

He eyed the rack before him with a light purse of his lips, the once so familiar titles on the covers feeling like something out of a farfetched dream and he reached out and plucked one of the magazines from the stand, paging through it with curious interest.

Porn…

How long had it been since he looked at porn? Five weeks? No, it had to be almost six by now…

Just for kicks he paged to the centerfold and held it up, as if he was eyeing a complex road map instead of a dirty picture and he was actually a bit surprised when his heart gave an appreciative little thump inside his chest at the sight of lace and smooth curves, but for some reason he wasn't sure how he felt about that. Boobs were apparently still a good thing, but… it also felt as if they shouldn't be somehow.

He turned another page, revealing the image of a woman wearing nothing but a pair of pink, elbow long leather gloves while lying on top of a kitchen table, holding a can of spray-on cream in her hand and a finger covered in said cream pointed against the tip of her tongue. It was a pretty graphic picture and once more Dean's body responded in favor to the sight, that familiar stirring in his lower abdomen that he had come to connected with Cas making itself known, but his brain was struggling with the notion, as if trying to remember why this, obviously angel-absent collection of papers was supposed to be exciting.

_Dean, what are you doing?_

Dean gasped when Castiel's voice ripped through the silence of his mind, confused and just a little bit suspicious and he slammed the magazine shut as if he had been caught with it red-handed by his own mother, but then he got a hold of himself and released a relieved sigh towards the floor.

_Man, ever heard of knocking?_ He grumbled, opening up the magazine to the page with the cream-girl again.

_It's a _psychic_ link; to actually knock would be imposs-… _ The angel's voice stuttered and choked inside Dean's head and the bond suddenly glowered bright pink as the image of what Dean was looking at travelled the distance between them.

_Why are you looking at that?_ Castiel demanded sternly, and Dean got the feeling that had the angel been there by his side he would have made a very pointed thing _not_ to look at the page in Dean's hands.

_You embarrassed Cassie?_ Dean chuckled, flipping the page to reveal another skimpy clad woman straddling a motorcycle and Cas' focus made a double-take inside Dean's head before quickly turning away again, from what Dean could tell suddenly very interested in Dean's memories of how a carbonator worked.

_I prefer the term uncomfortable._ The angel snapped back.

_Seriously? We have sex that blows out windows and you're embarrassed about a pornographic stereotype?_

_It's not the same thing._ Castiel deadpanned.

_How so? _Dean prompted. _Dude, it's just as skin mag. It's just pictures._

_Yes, which is precisely why I don't understand the point of it._

_C'mon, I remember certain parts of you understanding the concept of that Pizza man –porno just fine._ Dean leered, but the angel on the other side of the line was obviously not amused.

_That was different,_ he muttered.

_Different?_ Dean asked, turning another page before shrugging and picking up a second magazine.

_Yes._ Castiel answered tightly, a flicker of distain coursing through the bond as the various pictures and headlines on the front of the new cover travelled through the link.

_How come?_ Dean asked, opening the magazine to eye the index page with faked interest.

_For starters, they were two,_ the angel pointed out. _And they were… enjoying themselves._

_That's usually the point of sex, Cas_.

_You're being ignorant_. Castiel snorted. _The pizza man and the baby sitter were laughing, interacting; they were _sharing_ something while the women in these photos are just staged. In spite of their physical beauty there is no spirit, no passion, they're… blank. _

_You don't think you're overreacting just a bit?_ Dean suggested, but the angel's mind instantly drew together, like a hedgehog rolling up into a ball of prickling needles. Dean almost expected the angel to hiss at him.

_I'll take that as a 'no', _he sighed, letting the second magazine return to the rack before he headed towards the coolers in the back of the store, the first magazine with the cream and bike girls tucked safely under his arm.

_You're buying that?_ Castiel asked sharply, and now the pink bloom of the other's presence shifted, a washed out tone of green branching out through the bond along with a faint, acid taste that trickled its way down Dean's throat.

_You have any reason to why I shouldn't?_ Dean teased.

_You really want me to answer that?_ Cas shot back and Dean broke into a wide grin.

_Are you telling me you're jealous of a couple of passionless, blank photos?_ He chuckled and the spidery veins of watery green immediately darkened even further.

_You are _my_ mate_, Castiel pointed out and lord, Dean knew he shouldn't be having as much fun with this as he currently was, but he just couldn't help himself.

_And that makes us what, _exclusive_ now?_ He asked, pretending to sound offended by the thought and for some reason he was certain that on a celestial plane of existence there was a pair of pitch black, oily wings spreading out and ruffling threateningly in response.

_Stop it._ Castiel bit out sternly.

_Stop what?_

_You're mocking me. Stop it._

Dean rolled his eyes, opened the door to one of the coolers and snatched up a six pack of beer before closing it again.

"You really have no sense of humor do you?" he mumbled to himself.

Once again the sensation of having a storm cloud of dark feathers towering above your head made its way through Dean's consciousness and he snickered.

_I'm just playing you, man. I wasn't going to buy it, okay?_

Mental eyes narrowed at him and Dean demonstratively took the magazine and shoved it in between a box of chewing gum and M&M's, replacing it with a big bag of potato chips instead.

_There, you see? All gone._

He didn't get an answer, but the poisonous veins of dirty green drew back, slowly fading into a dull throb in the background while Dean paid for the gas and snacks and when he exited the store Castiel's presence was more of a sulking pout in the back of his head rather than a thunderstorm and man, who would have known jealous angels could be so cute?

To be honest he hadn't really thought about how Cas would react to the thought of Dean looking at girls, even in the most innocent circumstances. Given what they do for a living, the scenario of Dean having to talk to, or even flirt with other women was not a very unlikely thing and if Cas intended to go smitey every time that happened, working their cases would become _much_ harder in the future.

Still… this was undoubtedly useful information, considering that he still had a revenge to execute, and he had already established that the thing that made Cas so hard to beat was his military-like discipline. Dean needed something that could rile the angel up, something that would make him loose control and it might just be that he was on to something here...

Tentatively he brought up the image of the biker girl from his memory, trying to make it look as if he was trying to sneak a peak at it and the reaction was instantaneous.

_I thought I asked you to stop that._ Castiel snapped.

_I'm just looking for inspiration_. Dean objected, letting the girl send a lewd little wink at the angel through the mind-link.

_You don't need inspiration._ Castiel declared firmly, though not in a way that suggested flattery.

_You're being prejudice, Cas; there are all kinds of interesting things to pick up from those magazines._

_Like what?_ Castiel grumbled, sounding as if it was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard.

_Articles, _Dean suggested. _Q&A's… you know; tips and tricks for the bedroom._

Castiel seemed to contemplate this information for a bit, though reluctantly so, one might add.

_I suppose those things are acceptable,_ he eventually admitted. _But the images would be more preferable if they depicted real couples instead._

_Real couples? _Dean asked incredulously. _Dude, that's a little invasive don't you think?_

_And those other pictures are not? _The angel retorted. _At least then the intimacy would be real._

_Okay, I get it. Intimacy is a big deal for you._

_I wouldn't have to be just couple's though,_ Castiel continued, not caring about Dean's little interjection. _For example, a picture of you on a motor cycle would be infinitely more erotic than anything currently printed in that magazine._

Dean's head immediately received a glimpse of himself astride a dark blue Harley Davidson, completely shirtless while wearing only biker boots and a pair of torn, unbuttoned jeans with a leather jacket nonchalantly swung over his shoulder, all delivered with a vibrating sensation of approval from Castiel.

_Is that a fetish of yours? _Dean snorted, reaching out a hand to adjust the volume of the music. _Motorcycles?_

_Not particularly. _Castiel almost seemed to pull a face at the suggestion. _You, however, are a very agreeable source of sexual inspiration. Regardless of scenario, _he added and as if to prove a point the picture of the motorcycle was instantly replaced by an image of Dean, lying naked on Bobby's kitchen table, suckling on his finger with a come-hither look in his eyes and Dean's fingers slipped over the buttons of the radio, cheeks heating up so quickly he almost broke into a sweat.

_Now that's just gay_, he objected with a wince, quickly dispersing the promiscuous image of himself and seriously, was it necessary to get into so much detail?

_How so?_ Castiel asked challengingly and Dean realized with a sense of dread that this conversation was about to go in a completely different direction than he had intended it to.

_It just _is_, _he insisted. _I mean… guys don't do poses and shit like that. That's for girls!_

_You would look good doing poses, _the angel insisted and Dean resisted the urge to whimper.

_No, I'd look _gay!he argued.

_I think your perception of what a gay person looks like is mildly distorted,_ Castiel snorted.

_Well I haven't exactly researched the subject, _Dean grumbled back and in return he got a nonchalant shrug through the bond.

_Perhaps you should._

_What, research gay people?_ he snorted. _No thanks._ _I've seen both Bird Cage _and_ Brokeback Mountain, I know how it works._

_I don't understand, _Castiel sighed, obviously frustrated. _You don't harbor any hate against people with deviating sexuality, yet the topic of your own always seems to anger you._

_My own_? Dean demanded sharply.

_Yes, your own, _Castiel shot back, the glare almost physical through the link.

_So you're saying what, that _I'm_ gay?_ Dean snarled. _Because I'm not!_

_I know that_, Castiel snapped. _If you were, that magazine would not have had the effect on you as it did._

_The magazine again? Really, Cas?_

_Seeing as the center of this discussion originated from the fact that you wanted to buy one; yes!_

_I told you, I was _kidding_! _Dean repeated, tilting his head to the ceiling with an exasperated wince.

_A very strange joke,_ Castiel muttered.

_Would you just let go already?_

_Fine, _the angel answered sternly and Dean slumped down into his seat, fixing his eyes on the road with his jaw clenched tight, his throat swallowing down the angry lump that had lodged itself there during the conversation. Castiel was still moving around inside his head, pacing back and forth while pulsing out agitation through the bond and he was slowly giving Dean a headache.

_So have you ever considered buying a magazine with only men?_ The angel asked suddenly and Dean visibly blanched.

_No! _he squawked, _Absolutely not!_

_Yet girls are apparently okay_, Castiel pointed out sourly and Dean gritted his teeth.

_Listen, there are certain things straight guys just _don'tdo_, alright?!_

_Like having sex with angels wearing male vessels?_

Dean swallowed hard, his hands tightening around the wheel, leather creaking beneath his fingers.

_That's not what I meant, _he ground out.

_I know what you meant, _Castiel answered tightly._ I just don't understand it._

_Cas, we've been over this before, _Dean groaned._ I know you don't care about who's doing what when we-… _He cut himself off, licking his lips. _It's just complicated._

_You're worried about your masculinity,_ Castiel concluded quietly. _You shouldn't be._

_Cas…_ Dean winced, but the angel interrupted him.

_Do you think of me as less of a person because I enjoyed having rectal intercourse with you?_

_Of course not, I-…_

_Then why should it be any different the other way around?_

_Dude, you're an _angel!Dean exclaimed loudly. _You could do whatever the hell you want and you would still be trumping whatever masculinity card anyone could ever pull on you._

_While you as a human would only be belittled?_ Castiel asked, sounding genuinely confused.

_Yes!_

_So when I made you orgasm this morning, I was in reality oppressing you as a man?_

Dean lips parted, dragging in a sharp breath of air. He recalled that swipe of grace that had sent electricity sparking through his brain, the single, ghosting of a nonexistent finger and what it had felt like, pressing in against him.

_You enjoyed that, yet there is no change in you now. _Castiel pointed out. _You are still the same man as you were yesterday. You drive the same car, listen to the same music, drink the same beer… _

Dean glared at the passenger seat, for a moment forgetting that the angel was not actually riding in the car with him. Even when not physically present Dean could feel the force of those blue eyes staring him down, expecting an answer and his gaze skidded over the dashboard in a haphazardly swipe before flicking back to the road ahead.

He couldn't deny that what Cas had done to him this morning had felt good. He would even be willing to stretch as far as to call it exciting, but that didn't mean that he-… that he could just-… Okay, so getting your ass toyed with apparently had its benefits, but what if-…

_How does it feel?_ He mumbled through the link and Castiel's grace shifted, scowling.

_How does what feel?_ He asked and Dean gritted his teeth, because seriously the dude could tell when he was reading pornos from five miles away, but _this_ he didn't understand?

_You know, the sex thing," _he clarified testily_, "… back there, how does it feel?_

_It's…_ Castiel silenced, the slow pulse of grace against Dean soul suggesting that he was thinking the thought over, a dozen words and expressions flashing through the bond before the angel finally settled on one

… _like lightning_, he concluded.

_Lightning?_ Dean asked, feeling his stomach turn over nervously.

_Yes_.

_As in pain? _Given, Dean did not fear a little discomfort, but a whole damn lightning strike?! _Or is it like, getting a shock from an electrical socket, what?_ He demanded, perhaps a bit roughly, but Castiel's consciousness just shook its head.

_No, not pain, just… very bright. Sparking._

_That doesn't really tell me anything, dude._ Dean grumbled. _Can't you show me? Like… share the memory or something?_

_I'm afraid not._

_Are you saying that because you can't or because you won't?_ Dean muttered.

_I'm saying it because I'd like to believe that when you eventually find out, it will be through your own senses, not mine._

_So you won't then?_ Dean snarled, feeling Castiel's grace pull together defensively.

_No, I won't, _the angel bit back and Dean's eyes darkened, his teeth gnashing together as he resisted the urge to bury his fist into the seat next to him.

_Great, _he spat out instead, venomous sarcasm dripping from his mind._ Fucking awesome. _

_It would be much easier if you would simply let me _show_ you,_ Castiel sighed, the emphasis on the 'show' suggesting that the angel wasn't talking about a visual experience and Dean's stomach made that strange, lurching thing again that made his entire body grow alarmingly cold.

_I don't want to talk about it anymore,_ he growled.

_Dean…_

_No, Cas. Just… stop talking._

_Dean, please, it is not-…_

_For fuck sakes, just _shut up_!_ He snapped, feeling Castiel's mind reel back from the ice in his thoughts, retreating to a far off corner of his mind and Dean groaned, suddenly feeling as if every ounce of strength had been sucked out of his body and he sagged in his seat, swallowing hard and gritting his teeth to suppress the angry scream that attempted to claw its way up his throat.

Castiel moved away from him then, the grace that had always spread warmth as of the summer sun over Dean's soul turning cold as the bond narrowed down into a single thread of light that continued to grow continuously weaker and Dean knew that he should say something, perhaps even apologize, but instead the thought he sent through the decreasing bond came out completely different that what he had planned.

_Tell Sam I'll be home in a few minutes,_ he grumbled sternly, not really expecting Castiel to answer and the only response he got was a frosty flicker of grace and then the bond went silent, leaving his mind pitch black and mute in a way that made him feel as if he had been plunged deep under water and that was not right… That was not...

_Cas?_

He held his breath, but there was no answer and cold fingers slowly crept in to squeeze threateningly around his lungs the longer the silence drew out, numbing him, nails of fear digging harshly into the flesh of his soul as the horrible silence grabbed hold of him, pulling him under and dragging him down. The bond was still there, firm and steady, but it felt wrong, so terribly, terribly _wrong_!

_Cas?!_

The sound of his scream was muffled, echoing hollow and empty against the walls of his own mind and he rushed forth, trying to open up the bond once more, but it was like trying to pry open a bank vault with your teeth, the link refusing to budge as much as an inch and it was with a painful snap that he realized that Cas was keeping him out on purpose! Panic clawed at the confinements of his chest, ice filling up his lungs and freezing him from the inside out and he didn't even notice the way his hands were shaking, white knuckles grasping around the steering wheel as his labored breathing struggled to pull oxygen down his throat.

He could not recall pulling over, he had no memory what so ever of opening or exiting the car, but the pain caused by the gravel and dirt embedded in his right hand remained long after he had staggered to his feet, the raw scrape of flesh from where the asphalt had continuously connected with his fist sending a dull throb through his limbs when he climbed back into the driver's seat and turned the ignition on, steering the wheels back onto the road with a sullen rumble of the engine.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

_**Well, you know what they say – "It's all fun and games until…"**_


	16. Chapter 16

It took him more than a few minutes to get back to Singer's Salvage.

Half an hour after the bond closed, Dean finally parked the Impala in the middle of Bobby's driveway; his insides hollow, wrung out and bleached of color and he just wanted to sleep, the muscles in his back and shoulders aching with a tension he knew wouldn't allow itself to be chased away through rest alone. Anger and hurt echoed through his entire body and his brain was screaming with a throbbing hurt that pounded against the walls of his skull in a poor mimic of the nauseating twists originating from the deepest pit of his stomach.

With a glower he snatched Sammy's charger out of the passenger seat and got out of the car, reluctantly trudging his way back towards the house where he walked up the worn steps to the front porch with his eyes stubbornly glued to his boots, trying not to focus on the gaping empty space inside his head where there up until now had been only light, attempting to in fact ignore that place altogether and he was doing a pretty good job of succeeding at that when a movement in front of him caught his gaze. Looking up, shoulders squaring he spotted Bobby sitting on a chair next to the front door, his arms patiently crossed over his chest as if he had been waiting for him this whole time and the slow, reprimanding shake of the hunter's head made Dean feel as if he had just been caught elbow deep in the world's most forbidden cookie jar.

"Dean…" the old man sighed, his voice both exasperated and pleading all at once. "What the hell have you done this time, boy?"

Dean froze, a split second of hesitation between one step and the next, but then his face darkened and he started moving again.

"Stay out of this, Bobby," he growled darkly, but Bobby's scowl did not disappear.

"I had planned to," he huffed sarcastically, "but when your boyfriend decided to blow up my TV I figured I didn't have much of a choice."

Dean blinked, his hand freezing in midair on its way to the door.

"Yeah, you heard that right." Bobby grumbled, noticing his reaction and straightening up in the rickety old chair he was sitting on. "Don't worry, I don't think it was intentional," he added, "but whatever you did must have upset him pretty bad."

"I didn't do anything," Dean ground out sternly and Bobby rolled his eyes.

"Of course you didn't," he snorted. "Now why don't you tell me the one about Goldilocks while you're at it?"

"Very funny," Dean growled.

"Yeah, absolutely hysterical," Bobby shot back. "I'm sure Cas would have laughed too if he hadn't been so busy taking out his hurt feelings on my furniture."

"Well, it was his own damn fault!" Dean hissed "If he had just-…!"

"Save it, kid." Bobby bit out and Dean's mouth shut with an indignant snap. "It takes two to start a fight, and we both know you ain't exactly Gandhi's little poster-boy either."

Dean's jaw clenched, but Bobby looked like he couldn't have cared less about the young man's indignant glowering, eyeing the full-grown man in front of him as he would have a disobedient twelve-year old.

"Now, I don't care _how_ you do it," he declared firmly, "I don't care how long it _takes_, but you get a hold of yourself and _sort this mess out_ before another angelic temper tantrum sends my house soaring into the sky in pieces."

"There's nothing to sort out, Bobby," Dean growled and Bobby's eyes narrowed threateningly.

"Don't you even try with me, boy," he warned. "Someone pissed your angel off and it sure as hell wasn't me or Sam."

"Doesn't make it my fault," Dean snorted.

"But it makes it your problem," Bobby retorted sharply and Dean glared at him, throat working furiously to come up with something to say to that, but without success. Instead he turned away, sending his glare into the tree line surrounding the property while looking as if he was trying to will the entire area into splinters.

'_Fix this'_, he thought sourly. Why the hell was he the one who had to '_fix' _anything? Didn't Cas owe him some sort of apology too? Sure, Dean had not handled the whole thing as well as he probably should have, but for Cas to close the bond like that was seriously just immature and childish! Dean would never have done such a thing, and how come Bobby fawned over Cas so much all of a sudden anyway? What the hell had he said to the old geezer while Dean was out? Was he trying to pin this on Dean? Turn Sam and Bobby against him in some sort of retaliation? What the hell was he _thinking_?!

He gritted his teeth, the anger inside him seething the more he thought about it and when his knuckles crackled ominously, his hands balling into fists by his sides Bobby sighed, a soft rustle and the creak of the chair breaking the tense silence on the porch and making Dean's muscles tense.

"You know…" the older man said slowly, "When Karen was alive - when she was still herself I mean - we had a few fallouts of our own…"

Dean didn't look up, even if he found his mind instantly snapping back into the present when he heard Bobby mention his late wife, but he kept his eyes intently fixed into the distance, still too pissed to even look in the direction of the actual house.

"I've always been a grouchy old bastard, I'm not ashamed to admit that," Bobby confessed, "but Karen… I swear; that woman could make a hellhound downright piss itself when she was angry."

Dean dared a quick glance at the old man at that, taken aback by the crude choice of words and Bobby leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees while looking at the floorboards in front of his feet, seemingly talking more to himself than to Dean.

"She never cursed when we fought," he mumbled, "never used harsh language or raised her voice at me. It was the _tone_ that hurt, you know... the way she could say the simplest thing and still make it feel like a slap to the face."

Something sharp panged inside Dean's chest, the memory of Castiel's chilly voice snarling at him being all too clear still and his eyes darted back to the woods once more as Bobby continued talking.

"Every word was like getting a bucket of cold water dumped over your head and she had this thing she did with her shoulders that made her look so cold and distant." He shook his head and sighed again, a slow exhale of air that spoke of both loss and adoration beyond the use of words.

"Once it lasted for over three days," he recalled, "I slept on the couch the entire time. Tried to make it seem as if it was my own idea, but we both knew it was because I was too darn scared to suggest anything else."

Dean listened, his lips pressing together into a thin line as he waited for the story to continue, but nothing came, the same loaded silence lowering itself over the porch once more. The seconds ticked by, the amount of time passing growing threateningly close to minutes when Dean decided to take the bait.

"So how did you fix it?" he murmured tightly and Bobby shrugged.

"Turned out once we started talking again that none of us could remember what the fight had been about," he admitted and Dean's eyebrows shot up, sending the old man a look over his shoulder.

"Really?" he asked.

"Really," Bobby nodded. "However, from that moment on we agreed never to let an argument get that out of hand again. To never go to sleep angry, even if it meant not going to sleep at all." He glanced up, the sharp look in his eyes fixing Dean to the spot. "Do you understand what I'm telling you, boy?" he demanded and Dean bit down on the inside of his cheek, jaw working furiously for a moment before he eventually bowed his head, nodding silently in defeat.

He swallowed, listening to the wood of the chair creak when Bobby leaned back into the seat again and his shoulders slumped, the weight of them almost making it hard to breathe.

"Where is he?" he mumbled and Bobby motioned with his head towards the door.

"Inside," he said. "Once he started cursing in Enochian Sam shoved me out the door to wait for you while he tried to calm him down. Whatever the hell you told him hit the guy pretty bad," he added with a firm look and Dean ignored the sudden stab of guilt he felt at that, focusing his attention on the other part of the sentence instead.

"I didn't know Enochian had curses," he muttered and Bobby shrugged.

"I've never come across a language that didn't have any," he admitted. "Though I guess they are a bit more refined than our own, being divine and all…. From what I could tell they all seemed to take a whole lot of time to pronounce."

"Did he say anything else?" Dean asked, the suspicion of Cas trying to sell him out resurfacing with renewed force, but disappeared just as quickly when Bobby simply shook his head, sighing.

"Nothing that made any sense. Last I heard he was rambling about leaving…"

Dean's heart froze, his stomach making a nauseated flip.

"…but it's been quiet in there for quite a while now." Bobby ended and Dean's eyes automatically went to the kitchen windows, the white shutters there blocking his view and again his gut turned over on itself, the very thought about Castiel not being in there anymore making his knees go weak and shaky.

What if he had left? Was that what the closing of the bond meant? That he was gone? No, if Cas had left then Sam would not be in there still… then again if Cas had been upset enough to blow a hole in Bobby's TV then what if he had accidentally-…? No, no, no Cas wouldn't hurt Sam, that wasn't even a possibility. Cas was still here, he was in there and he...

His thoughts dissolved into a jumble of possible scenarios, all of them originating from the sudden, horrible realization that Dean had absolutely no idea what to expect. If he went in there, which let's face it; he would be forced to soon enough, how big was the possibility that he would find himself greeted by hard, blue eyes and an angel blade to his throat? Perhaps he should try to open the bond again, just to, like, get a heads up on the situation? Or perhaps he should-

"Don't just stand there you big sissy, get your ass in there," Bobby gruffed, and Dean was ripped out of his brooding with a startled jump, giving the old man a flicker of a glare before he reached for the door, swiftly pressing the handle down before the vicious tremor that rushed through his body had any time to give his nerves away.

The hallway inside the house was empty, the air feeling heavy and loaded as Dean closed the door behind him. There was a low murmur coming from the kitchen and Dean's pulse started racing when the muffled gravel of Castiel's voice reached his ears.

He could hear Sam's voice too, the sound travelling through the air in an almost whisper, his brother's words just as low as Castiel's had been and it was obvious that the two were having a very serious conversation. Sam said something that Dean couldn't quite make out, but he recognized the tone; honest, puppy-eyed concern laced with just enough scolding objection not to make it sound insulting and Dean scowled when Castiel answered, the apologetic murmur of the angel's voice completely contradicting the scenery Dean had expected to find. If he didn't know any better he would say that Sam was actually in the middle of giving Castiel the same talk Bobby had just provided Dean himself with just a moment ago and he slowed, placing Sam's new charger next to the staircase before making his way through the hall, the voices growing louder.

"Listen, Cas," he heard his brother say, "I know the two of you are having a fight and I know it's tough and all, but there's really no need for you to do this."

"I have to," came Castiel's answer, stern and tight and Dean's inside froze. Was he talking about leaving? Holy shit, was he leaving right now?!

"Dean will come around, he always does." Sam pleaded, "I mean, don't you think you're overreacting just a bit here?"

"No."

Legs growing heavy, limbs struggling forward as if he was wading his way through syrup Dean inched himself closer to the door, his entire being screaming in reluctance to face whatever scenery awaited him in the other room, but he knew that lingering out here would only make it look as if he was eavesdropping and that would only serve to send him into another, also very unpleasant situation and so he forced his body to carry him the final two steps all the way up to the doorway leading into the kitchen, feeling like a mouse walking willingly straight into a trap.

Castiel was standing back towards him when Dean emerged in the door frame, the angel seemingly completely submerged with the task of fiddling with something in the sink while Sam was sitting on the edge of the kitchen table, his brow deeply furrowed, hands fidgeting in his lap and a worried look on his face that Dean would have recognized anywhere.

Sam mouth was open, as if he had been about to say something else, but when he spotted Dean it closed, his shoulders squaring as he straightened up, his eyes widening and flickering towards Cas. When Dean's boots stepped onto the old wooden floor Castiel looked up and visibly stiffened, shoulders pulling up at the sight of Dean standing there before him and it was with a sharp pang of loss that Dean realized that he could actually visualize how the angel's wings would have drawn in tight around the other man's body in defense, had they still been there.

Bobby's words came drifting back to him, a memory less than a few minutes old, but with the equal force of a punch to the face (_…she had this thing she did with her shoulders…)_ and he swallowed hard, straightening up and bracing himself for whatever would happen next.

Sam didn't say anything, he just gave Castiel another quick glance from the corner of his eye and then he got off the table and walked out, sending Dean a look which the oldest Winchester interpreted as '_Dean,_ _you are my brother and I love you, but sometimes you are just such a fucking jerk_' as he disappeared into the living room and Dean felt the unsettling notion of being thrown into the cage with a man eating tiger when his brother then proceeded to shut the double doors firmly behind him.

He swallowed again, turning his eyes back to Castiel who was still looking right at him, every muscle in the angel's body tense and rigid, his jaw tight while his chest rose and fell steadily as if in defiance, but somehow Dean could not shake the feeling that he was in reality staring down a deer which had just been caught in the headlights of a speeding truck.

He opened his mouth, grappling for something to say when his gaze unintentionally landed on the counter next to Castiel's hands and he scowled, the flour covered bench and the two large pie tins filled with dough on top of it throwing him off track before the content of the sink caught his eye, the heap of green apples gathered there seemingly glowering back at him.

"Are you making pie?" he grated, his tense tone morphing into pure confusion, because this was not the scenario he had expected to find. Castiel followed his gaze, glancing at the fruit lying in the sink and then he shrugged.

"I needed something to occupy my thoughts," he mumbled and yeah, Dean really didn't know what to answer to that.

"Oh…" he mumbled sheepishly, slowly feeling more and more like a complete idiot where he stood. Damnit, he had been hoping that Castiel would be all angelic fury by now and he had been preparing himself for a fight that would most likely end up with one or two fists to his face before it was over, but this, this was just… _wrong_! Castiel was looking as if he had spent the hour Dean was gone fighting off every bad dream that ever haunted mankind and his eyes seemed so tired, almost grey and dull in the light seeping through the window shutters from the outside and Dean didn't know what the hell to do. His entire body was coiled and tight, fight mode still on, but now there was no one here to fight and it wasn't what he had imagined at all!

"Dean…"

The sound of Castiel's voice snapped him out of his daze and the look Castiel gave him when he turned to him was pleading, riddled with confusion and worry and the sight of it made Dean's throat run dry because he hadn't seen that look since that day he woke up all Angel Tazed in Bobby's guestroom, and he found that he didn't like it one more bit now than he had back then.

"Are we… done?" Castiel said slowly, and it took Dean more than a few moments of complete horror before he realized what he was being asked.

_Done fighting, _he forcefully told himself. _He means are you done fighting._

"I don't know," he grated. "Are we?"

"I'm not sure..."Castiel breathed back and then his brow furrowed, eyes darting down to glare at the floor. "We don't usually fight like this," he muttered, as if their situation was a pet that suddenly had decided to misbehave, but Dean knew what he meant. Their fights, when they weren't trying to avoid the fact that they had them, usually involved a lot more fisting of fabric and crowding against walls, but this… This was different, this was more… painful.

"No, we don't…" he agreed silently and Castiel flickered a glance at him from underneath dark lashes before turning away, teeth pulling at his lower lip and Dean felt as if the air had been knocked right out of him because how the hell did this happen? Everything had been fine this morning; when had things gone so _wrong_?

Castiel wasn't looking at him anymore, face tilted to the floor and Dean shifted his weight from one foot to the other, their breaths sounding loud and rude in the sudden silence of the kitchen.

Dean didn't want to fight. He had never intended there to even _be_ a fight and he just wanted things back to the way they had been before; when the gnawing on the inside of his chest wasn't trying to eat him alive and Castiel would meet his gaze head on like usual instead of avoiding it like this, as if he was afraid of what Dean's eyes would look like.

He swallowed, throat bone dry and this time it was Castiel who shifted on his feet, letting out a pained sigh before taking a deep breath, as if steeling himself.

"Dean, I-" he blurted; hurried, desperate. "I'm sorry, I never meant to-…"

"No, no, Cas, that's-…" Dean licked his lips, his voice low and throaty. "I'm the one who should be apologizing. I behaved like a first class jackass back there, I-… I shouldn't have snapped at you like that."

"And I should not have tried to force you into a conversation you did not want to have." Castiel confessed. "I pushed the matter too far and I apologize."

"It wasn't as if we hadn't talked about it before…" Dean admitted quietly, "or like we won't have to talk about it again…" he added pointedly.

Castiel flinched, a grimace creeping over his face.

"To be honest I would never want to do any of this again," he murmured.

"Yeah, me neither," Dean sighed, and damn him if he wasn't being completely honest about that. "So… "he whispered, "are we… good then?"

"Are you still angry?" Castiel retorted immediately and Dean's chest drew together tight, the weight from before returning with full force. Was he angry? Not as much as he was hurting, that's for sure. Then again, if it meant that things would go back to normal then he would happily say that it was all forgotten, over and done with, but at the same time that wouldn't be fair. Because what Cas had done was not fair, just as his own reaction had not been fair and Bobby was right; they needed to _fix this _because God knew things like this always managed to find a way to come back and bite them in the ass later if they didn't.

"I'm not angry," he sighed, "but I'm not happy either, I-… " he threw his hands out to the sides, sighing again before slumping his shoulders and closing his eyes.

"We're going to have to talk about this, Cas," he murmured. "Things are just going to get worse if we don't and like you said I really, really don't want to do this again, ever."

Castiel looked away and Dean gritted his teeth with frustration. Damnit, he just wanted it to be over! He wanted this stale, metallic taste in the back of his throat gone and the fist around his lungs to let go so that he could breathe again, but he knew that it wouldn't be that easy. Things were never easy, not for them, never. They had to do this, and they had to do this _properly_ or it would end up in a total disaster unlike anything they had been through yet and he had no interest of going there, didn't want to find out the many ways this could turn out wrong.

He turned his back towards the counter and slid down into a sitting position, leaning against the cupboard doors in silence and after a few moments of hesitation Castiel did the same, joining him on the floor with his back propped up against the white, wooden interior. Dean pulled both his legs up to his chest, resting his lower arms on his knees and next to him Castiel settled into something similar with one of his legs stretched out straight in front of him.

None of them said a word. Dean was searching for the right thing to say and Castiel did not stress him, patiently waiting for him to start talking as Dean kept his eyes fixed on the floor in between his boots, tracing the intricate lines of the worn boards there as if he the answer to his struggle could be read in the fibers of the hardwood floor if only he stared at it hard enough.

"It's not about the sex," he blurted out suddenly, abandoning his attempt to sprout psychic powers and instead figuring that getting to the point would probably be the most pain free way to approach the subject. Castiel didn't say anything, but Dean could feel the intensity of the gaze suddenly drilling into the side of his face and as much as he knew that Cas wasn't going to force him to speak he wouldn't say that the look digging into him right now was doing wonders for his nerves.

"I mean… it's about the _sex_, but it's not about the sex… with you." He corrected himself, wincing inwardly at his own choice of words. Damnit, they did these things in the movies all the time, it shouldn't be that hard!

"It's just… you're the first guy I've-… actually no, never mind, it's not about that either." He waved his hand dismissively, trying desperately to find words to describe the emotions currently having a fucking orgy inside his chest and after a few seconds of awkward gaping he clasped his hands together, bracing himself for what he was about to say.

"Look… You want to shove your dick up my ass, I get that." He ground out, "And yes, the thought is fucking scary as hell because I-…" he cut himself off, licking his lips. "I mean, god… they way you just let me _do_ that to you… Fuck, you didn't even _blink_, you just rolled over and told me to stick it in there as if it was the most natural thing in the world and I know that it's not fair, but I can't do that back, man, I can't…!"

"Because it would make you feel like less of a man," Castiel murmured.

"No!" Dean winced. "I mean… yes, maybe, I-… Listen, can we just forget about the things I said before?"

"If you say so," Castiel agreed, but he didn't sound very hopeful and Dean closed his eyes.

"Yes, I say so." He groaned. "Cas, I don't mind having sex with you – hell, sex with you is awesome, it's _great_, really, but… to lie down and spread my legs like that is… it's _embarrassing_."

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Castiel turn his head and scowl at him, but it wasn't an unhappy scowl, or a scowl that indicated that Dean had said something wrong. Instead it looked like the kind of scowl someone makes when they've just begun to catch the first eluding glimpses of realization and Dean took a deep breath, deciding to just go with it.

"I was raised to be a hunter," he continued, desperately trying to get his point across. "And being a hunter means that you're brought up in a certain environment. It's all guns and knives and blood and death… Emotions don't belong, they have no place, you know? And this here, with you, I mean, just the fact that I feel the way I do goes against everything I've ever-….!"

He leaned his head forward, resting it on top of his arms.

"I loose control when I'm with you," he whispered. "You make me feel things I've been taught not to feel, you make me admit things I've been told to keep hidden and I can't _quit you_... I _need you_ and it's fucking _terrifying_!"

"The idea of your lifestyle holds no place for attachments," Castiel concluded silently. "That's what you've been raised to believe."

"Yeah… and it's not exactly the most ideal circuit to announce that you have a sexual relationship with a male angel either…" Dean muttered.

"So you're ashamed of us?" Castiel asked, sounding more than just a little bit hurt and Dean wished that he could say no, but again that would be too easy, too simple.

"Not all people are as understanding to the whole guy-on-guy concept as you are, Cas," he explained slowly. "When a guy meets a girl it's pretty obvious how things in the bedroom works, which role gets assigned to which part, but with two guys…" he sighed, a tired, broken sound and damn he wished he could find a way to words this better. "It's just that people _talk_. They make shit up and the truth gets mixed with lies and before you know it things have gone from cute and domestic to full-on sex dungeon and I don't want people talking about us like that, I don't-… I don't want them talking like that about _you_."

He dared a glance to the side, but his eyes refused to travel any higher than the edge of Castiel's knee, the angel's posture not revealing anything of his reaction to Dean's words.

"I'm not ashamed that other hunters will find out about us," he continued quietly, "but fuck, these are people I _know_, Cas… people who knew my dad and who've seen me grow up and to think about them talking about us as if we're some kind of interspecies sex show it's… I mean they will never look at me the same way again. They won't be able to even hear my name without thinking about the guy who let himself get fucked over by some harp playing dude with wings."

"But you haven't let yourself-…" Castiel started and Dean snorted out a laugh, high-pitched and bordering to hysterical.

"Exactly!" he agreed. "I haven't! And that's the thing, because even if they say all that stuff about me; even if they talk about how Dean Winchester takes it up the ass for his gay boyfriend it won't matter because I _haven't_! But if I _did_, if I let you do that to me then it all becomes true and the things they say will suddenly be more than just words and I'm not sure if I can- I mean, hearing them assume is one thing, but hearing them talk while knowing that they're right is more than I can fucking handle…!"

"Dean…"

"Two months ago I was straight, man," Dean continued, "I was looking at breasts in magazines, picking up girls in bars and now I can't even remember _why_! And the worst part is that I'm not even properly gay, because if I was then _any_ guy should be able to make me feel like you do, but they _don't_! I don't even have a _label_, Cas; do you understand what I'm saying? How am I supposed to handle other people talking about me as if I'm a freak of nature when I don't even know what the hell I am anymore?!"

He drew a shaky breath, a tremble of air that he had to force down his own throat and he waited, his vision fuzzy with tears he refused to admit were there and he swallowed, the lump in his throat itching and making it hard to breathe. He heard Castiel shift by his side, scooting closer and Dean couldn't bear to look, or even move when the weight of the other's head leaned in and settled on his shoulder, a few stray strands of dark hair tickling against his neck.

"You're mine…" Castiel mumbled, the words reaching his ears sounding like a helpful suggestion and Dean did _not_ bite his lip at that, and the pathetic little sound he choked back down his throat was absolutely _not_ a sob, god damnit. His body felt crushingly heavy and feathery light all at the same time, the soft words winding their way through his system like springtime melting through the cold, black ice of winter.

"You've always been mine… and I yours." The angel murmured, and Dean could feel the heat of the other's breath go straight through the coarse material of his jacket, as were it made of mist, making him shudder, Castiel's voice seemingly brushing over every single atom of his existence.

"You speak of labels, but you were never meant for labels, Dean Winchester. Heaven and Hell alike tried to give you titles and names, expecting you to do as you were told and live up to their expectations, tried to break you, but neither succeeded. Are you going to let humans do what they could not? Is the thought of their opinion of you worth so much that you need to punish yourself like this?"

"Cas…" Dean whimpered, perhaps even begged, but Castiel did not let him have a say.

"You are _mine_," he repeated, "And you are strong, gentle, caring, stubborn, short tempered and more human than any other creature I have encountered on this planet. That's what _I_ see, but the truth is that none of those things matter because the only one who gets to decide who you are is _you_."

Dean gritted his teeth and nodded, a barely there movement of his head where it was still resting against his folded arms, showing that he understood and he felt Castiel sigh against his shoulder.

"Is there really a need to know anything else?" he whispered and Dean shook his head because no, no there wasn't, not really.

"So _if_ we were to… consummate in that way," the angel asked, being careful to choose his words correctly. "Would it still matter what people thought? Would you still be ashamed, even if they were right in assuming what we had done?"

"I guess not…" Dean whispered back with a voice so hoarse he barely recognized it himself and fuck it, he was _not_ going to cry, this was ridiculous!

"So if it's not shame that's holding you back, then…?" Castiel asked, moving his head away to look at him while leaving the question unfinished and Dean bit down on his lower lip, closing his eyes. God he wished he had the bond up and running again. With the bond he wouldn't have to explain the thoughts inside his head; he could simply show them instead, but it was a luxury he didn't have anymore and the notion alone was burning a hole straight through the very core of his soul.

_Words_, he reminded himself forcefully, raking his mind for the vocabulary needed to convey what his mind could not.

"I'm no fucking good at this, Cas…" he whispered, aiming his confession towards the floor. "Me and Sam… we don't _trust_ people. I mean, of course I trust _you_, but what you're asking me to do is…"

He noticed that his hands were shaking and he dug his nails harshly into his palms to make it stop, reducing the vicious trembling into a shiver.

"You're telling me to throw myself off a god damn cliff here, man," he grated, "To just, jump over the edge and wait for you to catch me before I hit the bottom and I want to think that you will, I do, but there's this voice in the back of my head screaming to me that you _won't_. I'm telling myself that it's all lies, but I can't shut it out; I can't make it _stop_…"

He rubbed his forehead against the sleeve of his jacket, trying to will the headache he felt coming on down before it made him incapable of thinking straight.

"So I act like an idiot instead," he rasped, "I scream at you and say all these nasty things because I'm a fucking coward and it's easier to lash out and be a jerk than to admit that I'm scared…"

He held his breath, heart hammering inside his chest as he waited for an answer, for Castiel to say anything in return, but instead of words he felt the warmth of a hand settle just below his right knee and he released a gush of breath that left his lungs with a violent shudder, the firm grip of Castiel's hand tightening in reassurance.

"You humans…" the angel mumbled, as if intrigued. "Constantly saying one thing while meaning another, not because you want to lie but because you're afraid of being lied to…" He sighed, shaking his head. "It's very contradictive."

The thumb resting on Dean's thigh moved in a slow swipe back and forth over the fabric, a seemingly tiny gesture, but with a weight behind it that made Dean's chest clench.

"You know, I have fears too…" the angel confessed. "There are so many things about this that are new to me… Not just the physical and emotional aspects of the bond that you and I share, but the human parts as well. Interacting with your kind is so… complicated."

Dean nodded, because he knew, of course he knew. Castiel was an angel, a completely different species who had just recently begun to grasp the concept of plain old sarcasm and here Dean was, assuming that he would understand the delicacy of how to respectfully discuss exiting the famous closet. He knew, but he had been too stupid to see it when it actually mattered.

"In Heaven I was a strategist." Castiel continued, seemingly going off on a completely different tangent. "I was known for my ability to recognize and plan different approaches of both offensive and defensive nature; other captains would turn to me for advice and I would give it without hesitation. There was no code I couldn't break, no riddles I couldn't solve and then…" he cut himself off and Dean heard the soft thud when the angel's head tipped back and banged softly against the cupboard behind them.

"… and then my garrison was assigned the mission to rescue the Righteous Man from the Pit." He sighed. "One of the most important tasks given to us in over two millennia and I would be lying if I did not admit that I felt pride at that moment... I think I knew it then, the very moment I made the decision to sear part of my grace into your soul that you would be my undoing."

"Cas…" Dean whispered, guilt wrenching up a hole inside his chest.

"We've been over this, Dean," Castiel interrupted. "I gave that up for you a long time ago. Everything that I've known, everything I ever cared about; the things I thought _mattered_… I did that for you. Not because I had to or because you forced me. I did it because I _wanted_ to."

The hand on Dean's tight slid up, moving over the span of coarse fabric until the tip of a finger brushed against the skin of Dean's hand, ghosting gently over knuckles and down the back of his palm in a caress that left fire in its wake.

"You are my everything," Castiel murmured, "and I will do anything that you ask of me. However, this cliff you speak of is not meant solely for you, but for _us_ and I will gladly take that leap with you should you ask me, but I need you to _ask_..."

Dean nodded, he couldn't do anything else, he couldn't speak, could barely _think_ and Castiel's touch was like a blessing to his soul, making his insides ache to reach out and reciprocate the gesture, but he was frozen, limbs locked and all he could was breathe while his body struggled to hold itself together, the slow slide of Castiel's thumb over his skin enough to make him feel ready to explode.

"There is time, beloved," Castiel whispered soothingly, as if sensing his distress. "We have plenty of time…."

Dean let out a strained whimper and then he moved, letting his trembling mind slide to caress the binding of the bond lightly, asking permission and Castiel sighed; a relieved sigh that shot an arrow of warmth straight through Dean's heart when the angel opened up his side of the link, the liquid gold and silver of grace slotting up and pressing against Dean's own soul so tight it seemed to swallow him up completely.

The relief that washed through the bond almost made Dean feel as if his chest had burst open, the cold and the dark that had been residing there washed out by the light of Castiel's presence and he let out a somewhat shocked chuckle, tipping his head back with a thud when the grace proceeded to curl around his body like a giant snake of sunlight winding itself around his limbs.

_Wow, aren't you a clingy one?_ He tried to tease, but the tone of his thoughts were drowned out by the pure joy he felt of having the angel close again and he smoothed his mind tenderly over the shimmering sensation inside his head and Castiel ducked his head away, looking almost embarrassed.

_Being without the bond for too long is very unpleasant_, he confessed.

_Well, you're the one who closed it to begin with._ Dean pointed out, nestling into the grace like a kid with a blanket.

_I know,_ Castiel sighed and Dean's brow furrowed, easing up on his possessive grip of the other's consciousness to refocus his thoughts.

_Why did you do that anyway?_ He asked silently and again Castiel sighed and closed his eyes.

_You were so angry,_ he winced. _ Seeing your soul like that was painful and I was afraid that-..._ he cut himself off, but Dean had already caught a glimpse of the angel's thoughts; the flash of naked, printed, female shapes and the sensation of being replaced and insufficient seeping through the angel's defenses and Dean swallowed hard, feeling like even more of an ass than before.

_You know it felt weird, right?_ he asked, offering the angel an apologetic caress through the bond. _Looking at that thing?_

_How so?_ Castiel glanced at him from the corner of his eye, leaning into the phantom touch with his mind.

_I don't know, _Dean confessed._ It just didn't feel right… like something was missing._

Castiel scowled, as if he didn't understand and Dean sighed, rolling his eyes.

_It wasn't _you_, okay? _He clarified, Castiel's brows shooting up in what could only be interpreted as surprise. _Sure, the pictures were nice and all, but it just… It's not what I want anymore._

He expected another wave of relief to ripple through the bond at that, but instead he was met with a pulse of shame and he scowled.

"What?" he asked out loud and Castiel flinched, another abashed flash shooting through the link before he averted his eyes to the side and Dean sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth, his eyes widening when the kitchen faded into grey, the walls swaying as if submerged under water and images began flashing before his eyes, the event of this morning playing out all over again only this time he found himself standing on the outside, looking in on himself.

He saw the way he had not even looked up when Castiel came to sit down next to him at breakfast, how he had seemed reluctant and angry about showing any physical affection towards the angel in front of his family, his abrupt departure from the house followed by the sudden, unannounced closing of the bond. He could feel Castiel's confusion and fear when he had caught Dean eyeing the skin mag and how much it had hurt when Dean had insinuated that he didn't consider the two of them to be physically or mentally exclusive; how the topic of Dean responses to Castiel's touches did nothing but anger him even more, as if Dean didn't want him anymore and oh god, is this what it had all looked like?!

"Jesus…" he breathed, his voice cracking as it left his mouth and instantly the world returned to normal, the sudden color of his surroundings making him wince. Castiel was looking at him again, but this time Dean could barely will himself to face him, the shame sitting like a nauseating clump in the pit of his stomach.

"Cas…" he croaked, "I'm sorry, I-… Oh god, I'm such a fucking idiot...!"

His gaze fell on the partially pealed apple still resting in the angel's hand and he closed his eyes, taking a deep, painfully slow breath.

"_Please_ tell me that's not the reason you're baking pies..." He begged and Castiel's eyes followed Dean's to land on the apple, his grace flinching slightly as if he had just been caught doing something he wasn't allowed to.

"Perhaps partially," he admitted. "Sam didn't think it would be necessary, but… I figured that if I had done something to anger you then it was the least I could do," he mumbled and fuck, Dean didn't know whether he should laugh or cry.

The sound that slipped between his lips seemed to balance it out though, as it came out like a mix between a chuckle and a sob and he buried his face in his hands, steadying himself.

"Jesus…" he winced once more, straightening up before he shifted his weight and unceremoniously crowded the angel against the kitchen counter, not giving Cas a chance to object before he smothered his mouth with a kiss that forced the angel to slip further down the surface of the cupboard door, Dean wrapping his arms around the other's waist and pressing in close to his body just as the two of them ended up lying flat on the floor with Dean's right knee in between Castiel's thighs to keep his weight up.

"Don't ever let me do that again," he growled out against Castiel's mouth, barely leaving room for a breathless 'okay' to slide between their lips before he dove back in, feeding every inch of regret and apology he could muster into the kiss until he felt the last shreds of doubt that had been looming over Castiel's grace disintegrate beneath the touch of his lips. Not that he stopped after that, no. He kept going, licking into the angel's mouth for a good while longer, feeling the tension melt out of the smaller man's frame until Castiel was practically limp in his arms, the feeble grip around Dean's jacket and the lazy movement of their mouths being the only sign that the angel was still conscious. Then, as the first, breathless indication of a moan slowly made its way through the angel's mind Dean pulled away, nipping lightly at Castiel's lower lip and relishing in the way the fingers clutching into his sleeves tightened, as if to keep him in place.

"There…" he whispered. "_Now_ we're good."

Castiel huffed out a displeased sound, the bond echoing it, but Dean ignored him, smiling as he reached to the side and picked up the apple that had somehow during the last minute escaped the grip of Castiel's fingers and ended up on the floor.

"Here," he offered it to the angel, suppressing a chuckle when Castiel simply frowned at it, his hair slightly rumpled and the collar of his shirt askew, as if he blamed the apple for the fact that Dean was no longer kissing him.

"Just wash it off; it'll be good as new." Dean promised, gently pressing the apple against Castiel's chest and Cas took it, giving him a reprimanding snort and a twitch of lips in return as they both climbed to their feet.

"I guess this means that I'm still making pies then?" he asked, raising a single eyebrow and Dean chuckled, stepping forward to press a new, soft kiss to the stubble of his cheek.

"Oh, you're making pies alright," he assured him, "You try to escape and I'll light the exits up with holy fire until you're done."

"How very romantic of you," Castiel snorted, but the amused flicker of light inside Dean's head gave him away and once again there was a painful clench in Dean's chest when the phantom rustle of mirthful wings ghosted through his mind. Then suddenly Castiel's grace shifted, a startled horror flashing through the bond and the next thing Dean knew there were fingers brushing against the back of his hand, moving down to graze against the dried scabs of blood along the side of his palm.

"You're bleeding," Castiel said sharply and Dean pulled the hand back, shrugging awkwardly.

"Oh… yeah, that, that's-… uh, I-…"

Castiel's eyes widened and the bond instantly darkened with guilt, but Dean pushed it away.

"C'mon, Cas, it's not that bad," he promised.

"It is," Castiel objected firmly.

"I'm a grown ass man," Dean snorted, "I can take a bit of scraped skin."

"Well, I can't," the angel declared and then he resolutely grabbed hold of Dean's hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a tender kiss against the injured skin and Dean felt the familiar, icy shudder wash through his limbs when the wound healed, leaving his hand smooth and clean once more.

"You learned that move from one of your sappy sitcoms?" he asked when the angel pulled his lips away, though his attempt of sarcasm came out far too dazed to be taken even remotely seriously

"Actually, I learned that from you." Castiel corrected and when Dean looked like a living question mark he added. "_Dangerous Liaisons_. You watched it when you were thirteen. Sam was asleep and you father was out. You were channel surfing, saw it and thought it was a nice gesture. Then the blonde girl took her shirt off and you got an erection and started-…"

"Whoa!" Dean cut him off, clamping a firm hand over the angel's mouth while ignoring the twinkle of amused blue the action brought him in return. "Okay, so you got it from me, that's-… thank you, Cas, I get it."

Hot air puffed against his skin in a low chuckle and then Dean pulled his hand off with a squicked noise when Castiel's tongue darted out to lick a moist mess over the center of his palm.

"Eww, man that's gross!"

He wiped his hand off on the back of his jeans, grimacing at the way Castiel was smirking at him.

"Yeah, laugh it up," he muttered. "You still have pies to make and I expect them to be fucking Michelin standard."

"Aren't they always?" Castiel retorted confidently.

"Cute." Dean snorted, but then he leaned in and gave the angel a quick kiss on the cheek before turning around, heading for the door

"Where are you going?" Castiel asked.

"I have some research to do."

"About what?" Castiel frowned.

"Jumping off cliffs." Dean answered, sending the angel the suggestive image of himself sprawled out on Bobby's kitchen table from before, hoping that the angel would take the hint and he almost broke into a grin when he felt the startled surprise and excitement the bond gave him in return, "Besides, I still have a war to win, remember?" Dean winked and Castiel snorted, rolling his eyes to the ceiling.

_Good luck with that_, he sent through the link and Dean's grin widened even further before he swallowed, lowering his voice.

"Yeah, uh, just one thing… you think you could, you know, tune out of my head again for a little while?" He gestured to his temple and Castiel tilted his head to the side. "It's nothing weird or anything, it's just… I'd like to do this on my own, you know? If I'm going to panic then I'd rather have my head to myself while doing it."

The crease of worry that had been about to form on the angel's brow slowly lightened and then Castiel smiled, just a barely there twitch of his lips and then he nodded.

"I understand," he said and Dean grinned again.

"Thanks man... You know, why don't you, like, go un-smite Bobby's TV in the mean time while I-…?" he motioned towards the guestroom with his thumb and the bond instantly washed over with remorse and abashment.

"I will make sure to get it done." The angel promised solemnly, turning away from the sink and towards the door leading into the living room, but Dean held up a warning finger, stopping him in his tracks.

"Uh-uh," he reprimanded, "_After_ the pie."

Castiel sighed, rolling his eyes to the ceiling.

"After the pie," he promised obediently and Dean fired off another grin and a quick kiss through the bond while backing out of the kitchen and into the hallway.

_Don't peak!_ he ordered, turning the corner and he felt Castiel's grace give an affectionate pulse of amusement through the bond before the link went mute, the angel closing it and obliging to Dean's wishes, which to be honest was a relief beyond words. After the revelation of what Dean had considered to be playful teasing had actually turned out to be nothing but cruel torture Dean was utterly convinced that he would not be able to close the bond himself for at least a week.

Walking into the living room he spotted his brother sitting on the couch, submerged in the task of hooking his phone up to the new charger Dean had brought home, earplugs firmly shoved in place and attached to the apparatus in his giant hands, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Dean had left the kitchen and being the older brother that he was Dean used the opening to walk straight up and snatch Sam's unmonitored laptop from coffee table.

"Hey… hey!" Sam scrambled take it back, various chords and technical devices flying around his head as he launched himself forward, but Dean was already heading for the door with the laptop cradled tightly against his chest.

"Just a few minutes," he promised, "I won't be long I swear, thanks man!" Dean gave his sibling a little wave just as he disappeared around the corner, quickly continuing down the hall to the guestroom, which to be honest had over the past few weeks more or less become his and Cas' room and he shut the door tightly behind him the moment he got inside, turning the key and hearing the lock slide into place with a satisfying 'click'. He was sure that Cas wouldn't come snooping but he didn't have the same faith in his younger brother and right now he really didn't feel like joining Sam in another one of his caring-and-sharing-talks.

He climbed onto the bed and sat himself down, cross-legged with the laptop in front of him, sparing himself only a moment of hesitation before he flipped it open. The drive booted up, going from standby mode to operative in just a few seconds and he opened up the web browser, heading straight for Google where he stopped. He looked at the empty, white space in the search field, sending one last look at the door and a guarded glance towards the silent bond inside his head before cracking his knuckles and drawing a mouthful of air into his lungs.

The deep breath before the dreaded plunge.

"Alright, let's do this…" he murmured and quickly, before he had the chance to change his mind, he typed in the words 'gay sex' into the search field, hitting enter with a sharp snap.

A vast list containing links with numerous variations of the two words immediately appeared across the page; offerings of free videos, live sex chats, short-term relationship contacts and everything in between, all neatly stacked right before his fingertips and so far it was all good… except for the fact that none of it was what he was currently looking for.

It was laughable really; the one time he actually wanted to do some proper research and he ends up exclusively with porn. Awesome…

Not allowing himself to get put down by the obvious failure he tried another combination of words, adding the word 'anal' at the front of the row in the search field before hitting 'search' again and this time he got more lucky.

The first link at the top of the list seemed to be an anal stimulation guide for girls, written by some chick named Alice, so he skipped that one. The second one was a YouTube video which had him scrambling for the volume button in frantic panic when a male voice unceremoniously and very _loudly_ began explaining how to best prepare oneself for gay sex. However it only took him a couple of seconds to realize that it was a video aimed for the topping party of the couple and although educational it still didn't mention any of the things he was trying to find. Damnit, he couldn't be the first guy to ask this question, there had to be _something_…!

He returned to Google and scrolled down a few more links before stopping and scrolling back up, reading the headline that had caught his eye one more time.

'When You Do Gay Anal Sex At First Time How You Feel?'

Given, it wasn't the most impressive grammatical composition, but it was the best he had so far. Hopeful, he clicked the link and yes, the question was honest enough, filed in the mature section of the forum, but his hope was quickly replaced by disappointment when he began reading the answers which all turned out to be very poorly written porn stories, elaborate enough, sure, but still very, very poor. And obviously, painfully _fake_ because even _Dean_ knew that a virgin guy wouldn't be _that_ enthusiastic about getting a dick shoved through his backdoor without lube _or_ prepping.

Returning to the search engine yet again he didn't even bother with clicking through to the second page and instead returned to the top, glaring at his search as if he could will the letters there to form the correct combination that would help him find the answer he was after.

"Okay, how about this one…?" he muttered, taking inspiration from the link he had just visited and typed in the words 'Anal orgasm feeling' into the search field.

Oh, perhaps he should have started with that one?

The first link directed him to Wikianswers where someone had asked the same question as before, only this time with correct English grammar and the person who answered seemed to really have put a lot of effort into their response.

Scanning through the text he read the words 'pleasurable' and 'overwhelming', both making his stomach tighten with a feeling that he couldn't quite place. It was a sensation of doing something bad, something shameful and forbidden, but at the same time it was also strangely calming, this mature sort of serenity lowering itself over his mind as he continued to read the words before him.

Apparently, if one were to believe the confession of this anonymous person, an anal orgasm was something going way beyond the feeling of a normal shoot off, depending on how sensitive you were and Dean's mind immediately returned to the memory of Castiel's grace sliding against him during breakfast, shoving him over the edge of orgasm so abruptly he had barely been able to understand what happened. Did the fact that he had come from just that touch on the outside of him mean that he was sensitive? And if so, what would the real thing feel like, if Castiel was actually _inside_…?

The thought made his gut do that strange, uncanny thing again, only this time there was the unmistakable tingle of arousal tossed into the mix and okay, so this might not be such a terrible idea after all… An orgasm that was more intense than a standard one could only be good, right?

He continued to read, the guy on the Q&A site continuing his answer by describing how after the orgasm the prostate would get even more intense than before. He mentioned the word 'tickling' a lot and Dean was not sure if he thought that sounded exciting or completely horrifying.

He clicked back to the Google page and continued down while reading through the link descriptions, clicking around for a minute or two in search for another source to the newly found information he had just been given, but the rest of the links were basically just repetitions of the question he had already read, most of the answers given here being various and unimaginative forms of "fuck you, faggot", courtesy some aggressive gay-hating lurker who apparently stalked the anal-threads of gay forums. Oh the irony...

Then of course there was the new truckload of porn that inevitable caught up with the seriousness at the bottom of the page and yeah, he might be curious, but he wasn't ready to go full on porn-surfing just yet.

Scrolling back to the top of the page however, his eyes landed on the small selection of thumb-nailed pictures related to his search that Google had been kind enough to provide him with and he bit down on his lower lip, worrying the skin there with his teeth.

It wouldn't be porn-surfing, not really. Google images weren't exactly shaming territory…

Tentatively, as if doing it slowly wouldn't make his intentions as obvious, he dragged the cursor to click on the image-section of the webpage instead and the disappointment that instantly barged in and hit him across the back of the head when all he found were pictures of naked women and sex toys caught him more than just slightly off guard.

Alright, then back to "gay anal sex" and yup, instantly the screen filled with pictures of dicks, asses and men; grunting, sweating and from the looks of it, screaming in pain an awful lot.

"Oh god…" he grimaced because really? _Really_? That didn't fit with the description of blissful and overwhelming that he had just read! What the hell?!

Slightly disgusted he hovered over a few pictures, - and oh god, was that _candlewax_ on that guy's balls? - contemplating to click them up but then he decided that no, no way in hell; he wasn't ready for this, it was too soon, too _weird_ and he was about to click the window down and forget he ever went there when a picture in the bottom corner of the screen caught his attention.

It was picture of a guy of course, the picture taken as if the camera had been aimed straight down from the ceiling, the man visible only from the throat down and he was lying on a bed, his legs hoisted up with another man's cock hilted deep inside him as he jerked off his own, rather impressive dick. His body was slender and muscular and Dean noted that he looked almost a little bit like Cas, perhaps a bit too wide over the chest, but still. He clicked the image up, not really thinking about what he was doing other than that he wanted to take a closer look, but before he could react or do anything else the screen gave a quick blink and he found himself automatically transferred to the image's original website.

He braced himself, expecting an onslaught of more hairy, grunting, sweaty men and an infinity of pop-up adds for penis enlargements, but instead the screen instantly filled up with clear blue and even though that seemed a bit weird it was… well, actually quite a relief. Blue was good, blue was… calming.

The blue was soon crowned with the website's title and it was with a light eye roll that Dean realized he had ended up on one of those websites that didn't even know how to spell their names right. Sure, it was probably considered quirky and fun in certain groups but he just found it to be stupid; what was so wrong about correct spelling anyway?

This particular site seemed to be a mix between several text forums, photo albums and instant messaging conversations, the search field at the top right informing him that he was at the moment viewing the results for the search 'gay porn', though as he asked himself later he couldn't for the life of him understand what the hell close-ups of hands and pictures of food had to do with porn, but he continued scrolling nonetheless, deciding that since he was already here he could at least look for the picture that had led him here.

It didn't take long however until the thought of the image was pushed to the back of his mind as he skimmed through the content of the site. There were a few text posts with people bragging about what great sex they just had, other's seemed to be complaining about how they don't get enough and others didn't even touch the subject of porn or sex with a six feet pole so he had no idea what they were even doing there. It all gave him a slight immature vibe, as if he were looking at a collection of high school confessions and he soon disregarded the writing altogether, focusing on the pictures and images he saw instead.

The mood regarding gay porn on this site seemed completely different from the one he had gotten off of Google; so far he had not seen a single biker thug, or even a gag-ball and most of the people seemed to be rather young, spanning from his own age and down from the looks of it and- wait a minute, did that picture just _move_?

Fascinated he watched the little mini-movies with no sound play out before his eyes as he continued further and further down the infinite length of the page and even though he sometimes came across a few sets containing graphical close-ups that he honestly could have done without he had to admit that most of them were actually not… that bad. Once you got over the fact that there was more than one dick involved of course.

The content of the pictures actually spanned everything from gay couples kissing or making out and grinding against each other in their underwear to full-on hardcore fucking and Dean found himself pulled in by the images, brow furrowing and lips parting as he focused his attention on the facial expressions of the individuals before him. These fit more with the description of orgasmic high that he had been given earlier and judging by the pace of the movements it basically looked as if the people bottoming were climaxing with every single thrust of the guy pumping into them.

The memory of Cas emerged inside his head, sliding to the surface like a bubble rising through water and he remembered how the angel had reacted when Dean was inside him that time, how he had trembled, moaned and gasped for more, begging for Dean to move and suddenly it all made much more sense.

Of course he had known for a long time –it was practically common knowledge after all- that a man's prostate was supposedly able to make you feel all kinds of good if stimulated the right way, but he hadn't exactly thought about trying it out for himself. It did come with a certain sense of… hygiene after all, but from the looks of it now perhaps he should at least entertain the possibility?

He looked at the moving picture in front of him, at the guy who was currently clutching the armrest of a couch with his jaw slack in a silent, yet seemingly euphoric moan while his partner thrust into him from behind and for a second Dean imagined what it would feel like if that were him and Cas. If Dean was the one clutching around the leather of that couch with Castiel's hands on his hips, holding him up and fucking into him, slow and dirty just like that and the spark that thought set of in his gut was almost enough to make him want to moan.

He continued down, sorting through the different posts and then there it was; the picture from before and he swallowed down a lump in his throat because sweet mother of god, there was an entire _set_ of them, and they were _moving_!

The Cas look-a-like was breathing rapidly, chest rising and falling, abs clenching, his hand a blur as it moved over the thick erection on the screen and Dean was in the middle of mentally reading the subtitles '_harder… please, harder!_' on the third picture in the angel's voice when a close to pornographic sound reached his ears. His hand was already shooting forth to turn off the computer's speakers when he straightened up, staring at the screen as the horrible realization pushed through his mind and notified him that the sound came from _him_ and his heart was suddenly pounding abnormally loud inside his ears, his blood rushing south and fuck he was _hard_ for Christ's sakes, hard from watching _gay porn_ with _dudes_ fucking other _dudes_ in the _ass_!

He quickly clicked the window down and shoved the laptop away, as if it might lash out and bite him if he kept it too close, taking deep, calming breaths to keep the panic from rising in his throat. It was a little late for gay-panic now, yes, far too late. He already fucked a guy. He was married to a guy. Freaking out over getting a hard-on from watching two other guys fuck shouldn't be such a big deal, it really shouldn't! It was sex. Sex was sex and sex was _good_! End of story. Sex with Cas especially was very, very good and that's what this was about; sex with Cas, sex on top of him, or under him, _inside_ him.

Resolutely picking the laptop up and placing it safely on the floor he lied down on the bed, steadying his breathing, trying to force the thought of Castiel's naked body from his mind, but without much success. The phantom voice of the angel had been put on a loop inside his head, the pleading '_faster, Dean, oh please_,' making it hard to breathe and he winced, feeling his erection doing the exact opposite of disappearing inside his boxers, pushing against the fly of his jeans as if begging for attention.

Damnit, how was he supposed to win this war if he kept thinking of fucking his adversary into the nearest piece of solid furniture? Or the other way around for that matter…? The thought of having Cas inside him, moving with him…

Another one of those strangled noises pushed past his lips and suddenly his hands were tearing at the buttons of his jeans, pulling the fabric apart and down and gripping around hot, rigid flesh and he pushed his head into the pillows by his side, muffling a desperate whimper.

Cas inside him… Would it be good? Would he like it? Would it be overwhelming just like the internet had said?

He gritted his teeth, the fingers around his dick tightening and moving faster, the arousal a burning fire inside his gut now when it had finally been granted recognition while his other fingers reached down and cupped the weight of his balls in the palm of his hand.

Jesus, this was so fucked up, why was this even turning him on? He should be disgusted; the thought having brought ice to his chest mere hours ago, but he couldn't help it, dear God in Heaven he couldn't help it!

Cas made him lose control, this right here being perfect proof of just that, but at the same time he felt as if he had never been this okay with losing something in his entire life. Cas was right about it all of course; the outside world didn't matter, this was about him and Cas, him and his angel, yes, _his angel_… Cas… his Cas…

The hand under his balls moved, slowly inching down and then the tip of his middle finger smoothed down the center of his scrotum, catching on the furled skin around _that_ part of him and he hissed, the breath wrenching out of him in a violent shudder because it felt-… Jesus, it felt-…!

Kicking his jeans down to pool around his ankles he spread his legs wider, giving him a better reach and his heart jolted when his finger returned to rub shallow circles around his entrance, slotting up against the very center of him. Cas had done this, with his grace, his mind… he had touched Dean right here and yeah, he recognized it now, the tingle, the fire inside him roaring higher and searing the doubt right out of his head. And this was just outside… he was still outside, sweet mother of god, what would it feel like… the real thing…?

The pressure of his finger increased, pushing in deeper though still without really entering and Dean gasped, the motion sending a ripple of unfamiliar pleasure through his limbs and then he winced, eyes screwing shut when he felt his dick tense inside the tight circle of his hand because oh, just the thought of it; Cas inside him, Cas fucking into him, slow and dirty, just like the pictures… fucking just like the pictures…

"Cas…" he breathed, not even a sound as much as a sharp exhale of air, "Cas…!"

He wanted to say 'harder, he wanted to say 'faster', but he couldn't, his breath locking inside his chest and he barely had the sense of awareness to pull his fingers away from his ass to fold them over the tip of his cock instead, muscles tightening and toes curling inside his boots as he shot into the palm of his hand, the white result of two days of sexual restraint dribbling down to land on the little stripe of exposed skin just below the edge of his shirt.

The thought of what he had done hit his mind like an eighteen wheeler truck before he even had the chance to come down properly, the erratic pounding of his heartbeat pulsing through him, his entire body stuttering as the panic fluttered into his chest and made him gasp for breath, a spasmic fit of anxiety coursing through his veins and threatening to render him a gaping heap of shivering limbs on the bed, but then it faded, that serene calmness from before lowering itself over him like a blanket, suffocating the flames of panic licking into his skull and he exhaled, feeling as if he was breathing out a thousand years of tension into the air above his head.

Okay… So that had been… new, he concluded, almost detached from himself. New and strange… but not… bad.

In fact, to be honest… To be really, _really_ honest it had actually felt… kinda good.

He slumped back into the beddings, staring up at the ceiling with a bewildered look in his eyes as the silent confession took hold and rooted itself inside his brain, making his body go limp and pliant amongst the sheets, shackles he had not even been aware of snapping open and making him feel lighter, almost weightless inside his own skin and Jesus, he still couldn't believe he had just done that to himself...!

"Son of a bitch…" he whispered, his voice hoarse and raw against the walls of the room and then he let out a choked chuckle, a punch of air that caused the corner of his mouth to twitch and his heart to race and he couldn't have cared less about the mess that trickled down the edge of his hip and down onto the mattress below when he rolled over and buried his head amongst the pillows, grinning like an complete idiot as peals of helpless laughter spilled over his lips.

_Son of a bitch._


	17. Chapter 17

They say that luck comes to those who earn it; something Dean had never really bothered to believe in much, but as fate would have it, Lady Luck seemed to have saved something special just for him, and today was frickin' payday, even if Dean had to admit that he hadn't exactly realized that right away…

Dean had emerged from his and Cas sleeping quarters feeling a million different kinds of confused all at the same time, but he hadn't felt… bad. More like a person who had spent their entire life terrified of water only to finally dip their head under the surface and come to the conclusion that not only did water not hurt you; it was actually quite pleasant.

Castiel had not made any enquiries to how his 'research' had gone and Dean didn't say anything either. They had left the bond partially closed, the link only letting through small vibrations of emotions, yet unlike before this mutual silence was not strained or involuntary, only domestic and casual in a way that made Dean feel as if he had been wrapped up in a thick blanket in front of a crackling fire after a cold winter's day outdoors. Not that he would admit it of course.

The pies were out and cooling on the sink when Dean stepped into the kitchen, but he barely had the time to sneak himself more than a crumb before Castiel ushered him out with a firm hand on his shoulder, seemingly interested in nothing more but to save his beloved pastries from further molestations, but Dean did not miss the warm tingle that skated along his skin the moment the angel's fingers splayed over the fabric of his shirt and it was obvious that Dean's little comment about the war still being up and running had not gone by unnoticed. He pretended not to feel it though, and if Castiel's mind gave off a low puff of disappointment at that then, who was Dean to act as if that wasn't the most hilarious thing to happen yet today?

As of now, they were all hauled up inside the living room, waiting for the dinner Castiel had prepared to finish baking inside the oven and even though Dean could barely wait to sink his teeth into Castiel's cooking he was still a bit anxious about taking place by the table when Cas was still on the sexual warpath. One forced orgasm in front of your family was quite enough for one day, thank you very much.

Bobby was out back, working as usual and Sam had been sitting with his laptop in his, as the name suggested, lap basically all day, catching up on the stuff he missed during his month in kinder garden. Dean was lounging in a chair by the old writing-desk on the other side of the room, watching the TV out of the corner of his eye while pretending to read a boring book on pagan gods and rituals while Castiel paged through channels, continuously pressing the buttons of the remote until he eventually settled on some sort of natural geographic documentary about animals in central Africa.

Funny thing, ever since Cas fixed the TV they had suddenly gained access to many more channels than before. When asked how the hell that happened Castiel had replied with a shrug and a low comment of "it's all waves." Dean suspected that the tweaking of the channels were the angel's way of apologizing to Bobby for blowing his TV up in the first place and he had let the subject go, not wanting to embarrass the angel further. Abandoning the book in his hands, the Gaelic spell on the page he had been reading slowly pushing him closer and closer to the brink of a furious headache, Dean sent the screen on the other side of the room a disinterested glance, but then he did a wide eyed double take, abruptly straightening up in his seat.

"Hey, I've seen that one before."

Sam looked up from his laptop, glancing around the room in search of what his brother was talking about and followed Dean's gaze to the TV where a tiny, iridescent bird was busing itself with picking out seeds from a fruit the size of a bowling ball.

"Seen what one? The bird?" he asked.

"Yeah, that's a-" Dean snapped his fingers rapidly, searching for the name, "a green headed something-something… Tanager! A green headed tanager, that's it."

"Okay…" Sam said slowly, clearly confused over his brother's suddenly sprouting ornithology skills. "And _you_ know this _how_ exactly?"

"Very funny," Dean answered testily, a bit annoyed that his brother didn't even seem to have the slightest faith in what he was talking about. "Cas showed it to me, smarty-pants."

"He showed you a bird from Brazil?" Sam's eyebrows shot up, "Why?"

"Because he was… trying to describe the color of his wings." Dean explained, reminding himself at the last minute that perhaps Sam didn't need to know any details about the whole molting vs. angel mating thing. "Apparently it changes sometimes," he ended instead and even though the sentence came out a bit twitchy Sam didn't seem to take any notice of it.

"Oh," Sam looked back at the TV and then glanced over at Castiel. "Your wings are _green_?" he asked, barely able to cover up the doubtful tone threading through the words.

"Their corporeal state used to have hues of green, amongst other colors." Cas confirmed calmly, studying the bird on the TV with a close to endearing expression. "But that was before Dean became my mate. They look a lot less adolescent now."

"Adolescent how?" Sam asked, his inner geek slowly unraveling as his eyes flickered to the empty space above Castiel's shoulders, as if he by looking fast enough could catch a glimpse of whatever celestial dimension they angel's wings were hiding in.

"I mean, what do they look like now?" he clarified and Castiel's eyes slowly moved away from the screen, giving the young Winchester an evaluating look before turning back to the TV once more.

"It's hard to explain," he answered shortly and Sam deflated like a balloon in his seat.

"Oh, I thought…" his eyes flickered back to Dean, who put his book down and leaned forward with his elbows resting on his knees to study his little brother intently.

"You thought what?" he asked and Sam, the full-grown giant of a man that he was, actually started blushing.

"Nothing," he squirmed, "I just… I mean I was kind of hoping that he'd be able to…. you know, show me?"

He threw a guilty look at Castiel, as if even voicing his interest on the subject was something rude and Castiel looked back, eyebrows knotting slowly before rising once more, the process of the angle's thoughts seemingly pulling him in two different directions.

"That is a possibility," he admitted slowly, "However, I'm not sure if-"

"C'mon, Cas, let him look." Dean prompted from his spot in the corner. "Poor guy's feeling left out."

"No, it's okay," Sam objected, "I don't need to see, I was just thinking-…"

"Nah, everyone else got a peek," Dean protested, and really, he understood how his brother must be feeling. Both Dean and Bobby got to see Castiel's wings and Sam, being the inquisitive nerd that he was had been bereft of the opportunity, his baby memories fading with every passing day. Even after all the commotion with Hell and Heaven and the angels Sam was still the religious one in the family and living with the knowledge that Cas had wings that he would never get to see even though everyone else had must be like torture to him.

"Cas can show them to you, right, Cas?" He motioned to the angel on the couch, but Cas didn't look particularly happy about the idea, something that became even clearer when he studiously stood up from his seat, walking past the TV with a firm look at the human before him.

"Dean, can I have a word with you?" he asked, the question echoing tightly through the suddenly wide open bond and Dean got up from his chair with an ensuring smile towards Sam and followed the angel out into the hallway where they stopped at the bottom of the stairs.

_I'm not entirely comfortable showing off my wings to anyone who happens to ask, Dean._ Castiel grumbled, the metallic tang of anxiety coating his thoughts as they travelled through Dean's head.

_Why not? _Dean asked, taken aback by the other's sudden reluctance. _You let Bobby see them._

_I didn't exactly have much of a choice at the time. _Castiel muttered._ An angel's wings is a very intimate matter, you know this already._

_Yeah, like walking around in your underwear,_ Dean recited._ I remember._

_Then you do realize what you are asking of me?_

_C'mon Cas, _Dean pleaded. _Sammy doesn't speak Angel. He's smart, sure, but unless there are books on feather etiquette lying around here somewhere he won't think twice about it unless you give him a reason to. It would really mean a lot to him; two minutes tops, I swear._

Castiel licked his lips, sending the taller man in the living room a quick glance over his shoulder and Dean saw Sam flinch, obviously having been caught looking at them and when Cas turned back he met the angel with a pleading look, putting every puppy-eye lesson he had ever gotten from Sam to use in a single, smoldering gaze, trying his best not to look too victorious when he felt the angel's resolve falter and eventually crumble before him.

"Alright." Cas muttered. "But only two minutes."

"Two minutes," Dean agreed, "Not a second longer. Thanks, babe."

Cas' mind pulsed out a wave of surprise at the sudden use of the new pet name, but when Dean leaned in and gave the corner of his mouth a quick kiss the surprise quickly morphed into abashed approval that made Dean feel like he had just been hit square in the chest by a big, fluffy comet.

When they reentered the living room Sam was hiding a smile behind his hand, but Dean didn't care about the fact that his brother had witnessed his little display of affection back there because Sam was about to get his socks knocked off in just a few seconds anyway and when Cas took place on the floor before them the smile quickly disappeared off the taller man's face and he stood up as well, licking his lips nervously.

Dean leaned against the bookcase on the opposite wall, trying his best not to grin when he felt Castiel's grace gather and focus on the other side of the link, but instead of the slow, growing process Dean had witnessed at the motel all those nights ago there was a faint shimmer in the air, a shadow that grew increasingly solid until a dark pair of full-fledged wings were spread out on either side of the suddenly very _real_ angel standing in the middle of the room and Castiel flexed the limbs carefully one by one, making sure not to knock anything over. Dean noted with a painful twinge to his chest that the familiar, oily shimmer he had grown accustomed to over the past month was gone, but he quickly decided that it wasn't such a bad thing when he studied the new plumage that had taken its place.

Castiel's new wings were midnight black and they shone like sleek, dark metal in the electric light from the TV and when he stretched his left wing to the side, the tip of it reaching as far as through the door to the kitchen, Dean noticed that on the inside of the wings, weaved amongst the tiny little feathers below the arch and spreading all the way down to the primary feathers there was a pattern of white spots dotted over the quills, like stars glimmering in the night sky and the sudden urge to reach out and trail his fingers over them was so strong Dean had to fist his hands inside his pockets.

The wings rose high above their heads, just like Dean remembered, and he noted with fascination that the primary feathers now had a dark, navy blue rim, as if each feather had been delicately airbrushed in a gradient shift from blue to black, the royal hue shimmering like liquid metal whenever the wings moved.

He quickly realized what Castiel had meant when he used the words "less adolescent", because this was very obviously wings that belonged to an adult angel, solid and firm in their very essence in a way that the angel's old wings hadn't even come close to.

Dean glanced to the side and noted with proud satisfaction that Sam was openly staring, mouth hanging open and gaping as he took in the sight before him.

"Wow…" he breathed, stunned. "Cas this is… they're amazing." He reached out, completely mesmerized, but then he seemed to catch himself and stilled with his hand still stretched out in hesitation. "Would it be okay if I-…?" he trailed off and Cas sent Dean a long glance from the corner of his eye before nodding slowly.

Dean knew that touching an angel's wings was a rare honor, even amongst other angels and even though he would never dream of denying his brother such a precious gift he could still feel a light sting of jealousy when Sam's palm made contact with the dark feathers, because those were Cas' _new_ feathers, the ones that literally screamed out 'taken' and 'off limits' to the entire universe; those were _Dean's_ wings and the possessive pride he felt at that was close to unsettling.

_What does it feel like when he touches them?_ He demanded through the link and Castiel's brow furrowed at the sharp edge of his tone.

_What would it feel like if he were to touch your arm?_ The angel asked back and Dean swallowed, jaw clenching.

_You don't get the… you know… 'tingles' like you did with me then?_ He muttered, trying his best not to make is sound as if he was sulking.

_It doesn't work like that. _Cas assured him._ Sam is not my mate. His touch will do nothing to me._

_But mine would?_

_Of course._

Dean looked down at the carpet by his feet, seemingly taking a few seconds to mull the thought over.

_So if I were to touch you right now, what would happen?_

Castiel scowled, not understanding what the human was getting at and Dean straightened up.

_Would it excite you?_ he continued slyly, taking his hand out from the pocket of his jacket and turning it palm-out towards the angel with a mischievous smirk. _Would you like that?_

Castiel's eyes widened and a spark of realization lit up the bond a split second before Dean curved his fingers into a ball, sending the touch of fisting a handful of feathers through the link and the angel instantly tensed, the wings beneath Sam's hands flaring out to the sides with every single feather standing in attention, sending the younger Winchester staggering backwards in shock.

"Shit…! Cas, you okay?! Did I hurt you, I'm so sorry!"

"I'm fine, Sam." Cas rasped, straightening up and bringing the wings in to carefully fold behind his back with a warning glare in Dean's direction. "You didn't hurt me, but please be careful. The wings are a bit sore after manifestation."

"Oh." Sam said, accepting the explanation without question and when he reached back out his hand was almost trembling, making very sure not to put too much pressure on the plumage beneath it.

_Nice save_, Dean commented dryly and Cas glowered at him.

_Dean. Stop it._

_C'mon, Cas, you like this; I can feel it… Besides, I've barely touched you yet. _

_Dean, I'm warning you…_

_You're _warning_ me? You, who are so 'in control' of your facial expressions?_ Dean mocked. _You shouldn't be the slightest worried about this. In fact, I wonder how long it would take for me to break you?_

_Dean…!_

_Let's see how much of this your angelic tolerance can handle, huh?_

Dean curled his fingers again, making sure that Castiel got to see him do it and Cas closed his eyes, taking a deep, slow breath through his nose, his jaw clenching when Dean began to stroke down the feathers one by one, petting them slowly, massaging the tendons beneath the arches and raking through the delicate downs on the inside of the wings.

The feathers that had been lying down smooth and sleek when he started were soon perking up, slowly ruffling from top to bottom with every passing second and Dean were having all the trouble in the world not to break out in a huge grin when he saw his brother look at them, completely fascinated.

"They're magnificent," Sam complimented quietly, apparently under the impression that Cas was ruffling his wings to show them off, "I didn't expect them to be so… flexible."

"Yeah, they really are a piece of work," Dean commented from the bookshelf. "And they sound really cool too," he added.

"Really?" Sam asked over the crest of a wildly puffed up wing and Dean raked his fingers through the feathers one more time, adding a bit of a suckle with his lips on the angel's neck and the dark wings immediately let out a violent shudder, filling the room with the sound of rustling feathers.

"Wow," Sam smiled and Dean nodded back, turning back to look at Castiel who had his eyes squeezed shut tightly.

_Does it feel good, Cas? _He teased. _Brings back memories doesn't it? You remember that time in the kitchen? I had you pushed up against the sink with your dick riding against my thigh. You were so hot, Cas, I couldn't keep my hands off you... Did you like it when we did that? _

Another rustle travelled through the air and Sam craned his neck to look up at the top of the alula, studying the feathers there intently.

_Dean, _please_…!_ Cas hissed, but Dean was not even close to done; he had been waiting for an opportunity like this for days and he wasn't planning to let the angel slip away that easily.

_Would you have liked to do that to me?_ He whispered instead and Castiel's eyes snapped open, staring at him in startled disbelief.

_Yeah, you heard me, _Dean continued, smirking. _I bet you would have loved shoving me up against a counter like that. You've always liked me with my back to the wall, trapped against you._

Castiel shut his eyes once more, his hands fisting by his sides.

_Would you have liked to fuck me against that counter, Cas? _Dean pushed on and whilst the angel's wings gave a barely there twitch the bond in its own turn seemed to explode in hot, white arousal inside Dean's head.

_Yeah, it wouldn't even matter where we, were would it? _Dean growled. _You'd have me up against this bookshelf right now if you could; spreading me out and opening me up... What if I told you I'd let you do that, huh? What if I told you, you could have me right here, right now? I'd let you fuck me so good, Cas, I'd let you blow my god damn brains out, let you know how it feels to have your dick inside me, filling me up so good, Cas...! _

Another vicious shudder rippled through the feathers of Cas' wings and this time Sam looked up, sending Dean a quizzical look to which Dean responded with a shrug.

"Cas, are you sure you're doing alright?" the younger Winchester asked, leaning forward to catch a glimpse of the angel's face.

_Would you like to fuck me, Cas?_

"Yes…!" Castiel rasped, fighting to keep his voice steady, "Yes I- I'm fine, Sam…"

"Are you sure? You seem a bit-…"

_I want you inside me, angel boy. I want you pounding into me, spreading me out on the mattress so eager for you, babe. You want to know what that feels like, don't you? Pretty, virgin angel like you…_

"…out of it?" Sam ended, reaching out to place a worried hand on the angel's shoulder and when his hand made contact with the white fabric of the other male's shirt Dean sent the most pornographic display he could imagine of himself, straddling the angel, riding him with his hands fisted amongst black and blue feathers with his head tossed back in pure ecstasy and the next second he found himself staggering backwards with a set of hands firmly curled into the front of his shirt, knocking him into the bookshelf so hard it sent several of the items in it tumbling to the ground.

Castiel was pressing him up against the wooden surface, shelves digging hard into the plane of the human's back, his face a mere inch away from Dean's own, his breath hot on Dean's lips as he growled out something Dean didn't quite catch against his mouth, the wings over his back spreading out and quivering ominously while the bond literally boiled with the angel's barely controlled restraint.

"You're playing with fire, Dean Winchester," Castiel hissed and the sound of his name dripping off the angel's tongue like that made Dean's entire body tremble, "You should know by now not to talk so big unless you're willing to take the consequences…"

Dean expected Cas to kiss him next, and fuck he wouldn't have minded it, even with his brother present and watching, but instead Castiel stepped back, letting him go and that's when Dean discovered that except for the angel and himself the room was now empty.

"What the-?" He swirled around, looking around the room as if he expected his brother to pop out from behind the sofa at any second, "Where did he go?"

"_He_ did not go anywhere." Castiel gruffed.

"What?"

"I transported _us_." The angel clarified, "More specifically, I halted us within the void between moments. Sam is still here, frozen in time and unable to perceive us, as we are him."

"That's one hell of a party trick," Dean acknowledged with a nervous laugh and Castiel looked at him, predatory eyes settling like a fiery weight across his chest.

"Indeed," he growled and Dean's shoulders hit the bookshelf once more when the angel stepped back into his personal space, a strong hand coming up to grasp around his chin, wings rustling as Cas pressed a greedy kiss to his lips before pulling away to brush his mouth against the shell of Dean's ear.

"I have unfinished business with you…"

The low rumble of the angel's voice sent goose bumps prickling all over Dean's skin in a fierce rush that could have been caused by heat or cold alike and then the floor beneath his feet cringed violently just as he felt himself being pushed back for the second time, only this time there was no longer a bookshelf behind him to brake his fall. He tumbled backwards, for a few seconds seemingly levitating in thin air, grappling in panic for something to hold on to before gravity inevitably got the upper hand and he landed on top of something feeling suspiciously much like a mattress with a loud 'ouff'.

He barely had the time to register that he was lying on his back on the big bed in their own bedroom before Cas was right there on top of him, pushing him down with hands in a tight grip around his arms, pinning them next to his head and those giant wings fanning out above them both, Castiel's mouth latching onto his with a snarl that made lighting go off behind Dean's eyes.

He never even stood a chance. Castiel was kissing him with the force of a thousand hurricanes, the fingers wrapping around Dean's wrist flexing and tightening and Dean was not even trying to fight back at this point, he just pressed in closer, moaning loud and shamelessly when he felt the angel grind down against him in return. Everything was rough and needy, each movement laced with a desperation that Dean had not even been aware of existed until now and Castiel's breath was hot on his skin, the messy slip and slide of their tongues and lips fueling the fire in his gut until he found himself bucking up in search for some kind of friction against the now very evident hard-on inside his jeans.

He didn't know how they did it, but somehow they managed to crawl higher onto the bed, Dean's head almost hitting the headboard when the angel above him dove down for another kiss and somewhere along the line Cas let go of his hands, leaving Dean free to roam his fingers over every inch of the angel that he could reach. Castiel moaned into his mouth when Dean found the edge of a dark feather, tugging at it to bring it closer and Castiel obliged, the shiny quills trailing down the human's body with a dry whisper. Dean combed his hands eagerly through the plumes, pinching and rolling the feathers between his fingers to elicit intoxicating sounds of pleasure from the angel's mouth and for some reason, be it his imagination or something else, Castiel's wings almost felt different than before; as if they had been measured to fit perfectly into the palm of Dean's hands, like giant pieces of an enormous puzzle.

None of them were paying attention to how it happened, but slowly the pace of their kisses slowed down, easing from borderline violent to intense, down to passionate and then all the way to tender. Dean's hands came to a halt, resting lightly at the curves of the dark wings and he sighed when Castiel leaned further down, the angel's tongue licking into his mouth in languid, lazy swipes. The mattress beneath them shifted when Cas moved and Dean felt a warm hand splay across the plane of his stomach, pushing at his t-shirt until it was bunched up high beneath his armpits and then Castiel's mouth abruptly left his only to reappear next to his bellybutton, suckling a tender mark to the skin there.

"You…" he growled, voice coarse and charred like smoked whiskey, "… are the most infuriating… conceited… _impossible_ human… I have ever come to know…"

Dean shuddered when Castiel mouthed the words against his skin, the angel only interrupting himself to kiss a slow, messy trail up the side of Dean's ribs, his hands keeping a firm grip of the human's hips as he did so.

"I have the ability to wipe you off the face of the earth in less than a heartbeat," he continued, skipping over the last few ribs to grace his teeth over a hard nipple. "I could obliterate you as easily as I could say your name… and yet you never look upon me with fear in your eyes." He looked up, meeting Dean's gaze. "Only excitement… Eagerness…"

The pert nub between the angel's lips received a teasing pull and Dean groaned. Castiel's grace was slotting up against his soul in an attempted mime of their bodies, filling his head with the buzz of the arousal coursing through the angel's mind, feeding it through the link in a never-ending display of just how close to the edge Dean had brought him.

"You challenge me," Castiel continued darkly, "_daring_ me… as if you enjoy pushing me to my limits."

The hands on Dean's hipbones tightened.

"Do you know what happens when an angel reaches its limits, Dean?" he asked, but didn't wait for Dean to answer before he leaned up to latch on to the human's neck with his lips. "Humans like you get in trouble," he growled, "Unbelievably… _big_…. trouble…"

"Would that trouble be anything like the one I'm in right now?" Dean chuckled breathlessly, "'Cause I sort of like this kind..."

"So I've noticed," Cas whispered, the hand on Dean's left hip sliding down to rub over the bulge in his jeans. "And it is strange that I would find myself enjoying it as well, in spite of your careless, sadistic methods."

"You're saying you liked getting your freak on in front of my brother?" Dean asked teasingly, pulling at his lower lip to stifle a moan when Castiel's hand pressed down a bit harder in reciprocation.

"I liked the fact that even though I found the situation highly inappropriate, your natural skill of persistence _nagging_ never seize to amaze me." The angel corrected. "Truth to be told you are very… convincing."

"Yeah… sex will do that to a guy…" Dean hummed contently, arching into the angel's touch, searching for more contact, wanting to _feel_ Castiel's hands on him.

"Speaking of…" Castiel mumbled, slowly kissing his way down Dean's stomach once more, "You brought up some rather convincing arguments back there." Dean shuddered when he heard the zipper of his jeans come undone. "Did you mean them?"

Dean snapped his eyes open, looking down at the angel hovering over his partially undone jeans, suddenly with a stone sitting heavy in his gut when he sensed the anticipation radiating through the link in his head, Castiel's eyes looking up at him, waiting patiently for an answer.

"Oh… I, uh…" he licked his lips, swallowing hard, "I was… I mean, I-…" He let out a shaky breath when Castiel's mind curled around his hesitation, silencing it as the angel tugged at his trousers and he obediently rose his hips up, allowing the other man to pull his jeans and boxers down to his knees.

He meant it. Of course he did. Saying those things out there in the living room, telling Cas all the things he would be willing to let the angel do to him; he had meant every syllable, but in _here_, this close with nowhere to run… He still meant it, but the thought was suddenly a lot more frightening than before, because let's get real – there's a whole world of differences between _talking_ about riding the biggest, baddest rollercoaster on the fair and to actually climb into the goddamn wagon.

"Cas, I-…" he tried again, but for the second time the soft pressure of Cas' mind made him lose track of what he was attempting to say.

"Don't speak," Castiel whispered, pressing another, slow kiss against the ridge of his hipbone. "Just let me take care of you…"

Dean was not sure of how he was meant to interpret that, but he quickly decided that it would probably be better for him to not even attempt it either way. Castiel's grace continued to move in that same, slow slide along the edges of his soul, soothing and calming him and Dean leaned into the sensation, reciprocating the touch to the best of his ability.

_One word…_ the angel whispered inside his head, _One word and I'll stop, whenever you want._

Blue eyes came up to look straight at him and Dean felt the knot inside his chest loosen slightly and he nodded, allowing his head to fall back against the pillow with a shaky sigh, staring up at the ceiling while Castiel mouthed his way down the jut of his pelvis, lapping and suckling at the skin until he finally closed his lips around Dean's erection, hollowing his cheeks with a low hum that made Dean sigh and downright melt into the sheets.

Castiel made sure to take his time, nipping and licking carefully, dragging every gasp and tremble he could out of the man beneath him and Dean soon found himself fisting the sheets by his sides, his face pushing into the pillow beneath his head with his mouth open, breathing hard and panting into the fabric with his eyes screwed shut while receiving tiny kitten licks to the head of his cock, each shallow swipe making his mind sear.

He could hear Castiel's grace whisper inside his head; silent, wordless insights of the angel's thoughts and feelings, every breathed out confession of adoration, every inch of celestial worship slotting up and pressing in against him with an uncovered honesty that made Dean's ears heat up and his cheeks to flush. He cold see images of himself inside the angel's head, doing absolutely ordinary things like pouring coffee or sleeping on the couch, but for some reason those were the things that the angel had memorized, the things that their psychic connection now shared with him accompanied with so many feelings and thoughts they left Dean's brain overwhelmed and too embarrassed to even register them all. Castiel's affection for him was lighting up his mind like fireworks and damnit he _didn't deserve this kind of attention_, he wasn't _worthy_ to receive such love from anyone, even less an _angel_ and he couldn't take it, it was too much and he scrambled his hand down, fumbling against the hair at the top of the angel's head.

_Cas…_he pleaded, _I'm sorry man, but I can't- I can't have you in my head while we do this..._

The angel hummed, letting him know that he heard him, kneading his hands down to massage the top of the man's thighs and even though the images pulled away and out of his head, Dean could still feel the warmth of the angel's adoration pulse through him and he gritted his teeth, fisting the sheets even tighter .

"Cas, please…" he groaned, "I really can't..."

There was a quick flicker of uncertainty and surprise through the bond when Dean began to pull away, attempting to close the bond before the angel caught up to the shame building in his head and even though it was clear that the angel did not like the thought of Dean separating his mind from him the link fell silent as Castiel let it go without argument, the quiet space inside Dean's head immediately finding itself compensated by the vigor of the angel's mouth on his dick.

Dean arched his back, a startled groan ripping itself out of his throat when Cas went down on him further and he remembered the way the angel had almost rendered him a blabbering pile of mush just the other day doing exactly that. He sat up, leaning back on his elbows and stared down at the spot where Castiel's lips continued to move over him in wicked slow slides, feeling a furious sweat break out all over his body when he caught the glimpse of a pink tongue darting out in between the suckles.

"Where the hell did you learn to do that?" he panted, swallowing down a whimper when Castiel chuckled around the flesh in his mouth before pulling off with a wet slurp.

"I spent two weeks inside your head, remember?" The angel pointed out, replacing his mouth with the palm of his hand, making Dean's body twitch when he started jerking him off slowly. "I saw every fantasy you ever had about me. All the things you wanted me to do to you… of what you wanted to do to me."

Dean bucked into the tight circle of Cas' hand, letting himself fall down onto his back with a moan.

"I know all your secrets…" Cas murmured, scooting down to settle comfortable between his knees with a whispered approval of his wings. "I've heard you beg for me thousand and thousands of times; I can identify your deepest wants and desires going only by the slightest shift in the tone of your voice."

He lowered his face down, brushing his lips teasingly over the crown of the cock in his hands.

"Let me give you what you want, beloved..." he whispered, "All you have to do is say yes… or no, if you will. It's your choice."

Dean didn't dare look down, could not bring himself to meet the look of the angel kneeling before him, his heart beating viciously inside his chest. He knew what Castiel was asking, of course he knew and it was probably the most terrifying thing he had ever considered doing in his life, but at the same time… Fuck, the thought was exciting, he couldn't deny it; the curiosity hot and blazing within his chest, but it was also the most undignified thing he had ever pictured himself doing. Allowing someone to shove something up your ass was just something… Jesus, it was something you just weren't supposed to _do_! Then again… he was pretty sure that angels didn't usually let humans do that to them either, yet Cas had done so without a single complaint… and for fuck sakes, it wasn't as if the two of them were exactly considered vanilla to begin with here. Castiel obviously had a thing for the whole leather and handcuffs gig and Dean… well, Dean apparently liked having fingers playing with his ass while he jerked off and there you had it, it couldn't be any clearer, really.

He _wanted_ this and remembering the feeling of it, just that teasing brush of skin against the outside of him made him swallow hard. Besides; no one else ever needed to know about it because this was _them_, this was _Cas_; Cas who was willing to give up Heaven for his sake…! And it wasn't as if any of the other things they had done so far had turned out to be uncomfortable either... and even if he changed his mind, since Cas told him he'd stop whenever Dean asked then... then…

"Yes…" he breathed, feeling the clench in his chest spread to the back of his throat, leaving his voice strained and brittle, "God help me, but yes…"

Castiel looked up at him then, as if to make sure that Dean was actually realizing what he was saying and then a tiny pull at the corner of the other male's lip made Dean's skin prickle as he leaned down to place another one of those fluttering kisses against his hipbone.

"There is no need to call upon God," the angel assured him, "I am fully capable of doing this myself..."

Dean held his breath, expecting there to be a tongue or hand on his dick next, but instead he was left to watch Castiel move further down the bed, sliding his fingers down the length of his legs and caressing the coarse hairs there while pulling the jeans and boxers down and off along the way. Castiel then proceeded with undoing the tie from around his own neck and letting it join the growing pile of clothes at the foot of the bed, the white dress shirt following soon after and damnit, Dean would never get used to seeing the angel like this. Wings spread out, strong and rippling black whilst only wearing the dark slacks Castiel glanced over to the haphazard t-shirt still bunched below Dean's armpits and Dean obediently sat up further, dragging it over his head and tossing it aside before leaning back against the headboard, trying his best not to let the vicious pounding of his pulse show in the light tremors of his limbs when Castiel's hands settled gently on top of his feet, pulling his socks off.

The angel let his hands slide over the skin, fingers caressing the curves of each foot with a near revering tenderness and Dean bit down on his lower lip when Cas began massaging his soles with slow swipes of his thumbs, watching the human's flesh move beneath his fingertips in close to childish fascination.

"Cas that's…" Dean cleared his throat, chasing away the squeak that threatened to overtake it, "That's a bit weird, you know… with the whole feet thing…"

Castiel looked up at him, a confused frown settling on his face.

"It is considered weird to pay equal attention to each part of your lover's body?" he asked slowly, as if challenging Dean to tell him that this was indeed so.

"That's not what I meant, dude," Dean swallowed, "It's just… I mean, they're _feet_…! You're not supposed to look at them like… like _that_."

"They are a part of you," Castiel countered simply and Dean's eyes fluttered shut when the angel pressed down on a particularly good spot just below his big toe and okay, maybe Cas' fascination with his feet wasn't so bad if it got him this kind of treatme-

His entire body suddenly jack-knifed off the bed, yanking at his foot in a violent attempt to escape the angel's hands and the large, velvety feathers currently trailing in between the space of his toes.

"No!" he yelp, "Dude, _not_ like that!"

Castiel tilted his head, as if asking what he was doing wrong and Dean shuddered, tugging desperately at his leg.

"It _tickles_!" he gasped, "Just-…! F-fuck, get your feathers _away_ from there!"

Cas frowned, not hiding the fact that he thought the human was clearly overreacting, but he pulled his wings back nonetheless and instead leaned forward and started kissing his way up Dean's right leg, spreading small love bites and nibbles of teeth along the way. When he reached the lower half of the thigh he raised the leg up into the air with guiding pressure, suckling and lapping at the sensitive skin at the back of the knee and Dean fell back against the pillow, sucking in a sharp breath through his teeth, tensing up.

"Does this tickle as well?" Cas mouthed quietly.

"N-no… It's… it's good…" Dean breathed, letting out a low moan when the angel continued down the back of his thigh, stubble rasping against the skin, but his appreciative sounds were quickly replaced by a startled yelp when Cas without warning, or seemingly any effort, wrapped both his arms around the human's abs and hips and _tugged_, hoisting him into the air in a single, fluent motion until both his thighs rested heavily on top of the angel's shoulders and Dean choked down an indignant squawk when he felt the other's tongue move over the weight of his testicles, licking his balls with slow, long swipes of his tongue, moving further and further down until…!

"Cas..?" Dean choked, his eyes widening and one of his hands shooting up to clasp around the angel's arm in horrified realization. "Cas, that's-…! Fuck, stop it! Stop it, _Cas_…!"

Castiel obliged, stopping his ministrations while sending a patient look down the length of Dean's body and Dean's insides trembled when the the dark pupils of the angel's eyes seemed to dilate even further when the human met his gaze.

"That's-… For fuck sakes, man, that's not-… It's not _sanitary_!" he ended helplessly, not capable of thinking straight with Cas' eyes fixed on him like that, like a hungry wolf eyeing a piece of raw meat. "You know there's-… I mean, you're supposed to clean out and-…"

His poorly constructed sentence was abruptly ended with a garbled gasp, his entire body jerking when the feeling as of being dumped in a pool of icy cold water rushed over his skin, Castiel's grace wrapping around and washing over him in a split second of freezing paralyzation.

"Dude, what the _hell_!?" he demanded, desperately trying to worm out of the iron grip of the angel's arms, but without success.

"You are as of now the most sanitary person on the whole planet." Cas stated slowly, his mouth moving against the inside of Dean's thigh as he spoke. "The Holy Throne of Heaven itself could not be cleaner, so unless there's anything else I suggest you lie down and relax."

"Now hold on!" Dean objected, "You- you can't jus- _oh god…_!"

He choked down a cry when he felt Castiel's mouth move back down, the wet slide of his tongue coaxing a violent tremor out of him and he buried his face in his hands, his legs tensing against the other male's shoulder and one of the angel's hands around his waist immediately moved up to grasp around his thigh, holding him in place.

Wet, hot, slippery and absolutely fucking _weird_, that's how it felt. The swipe of grace from before was _nothing_ in comparison and the feeling of his own fingers couldn't possibly come close to this, there was just no _way_! He knew that he shouldn't like it; that it was gross and disgusting and everything he'd never be willing to do himself, but Jesus Christ it felt so _good_! Cas licking over him, worshiping the most private part of him and he felt so exposed, helplessly spread open where he was, hoisted into the air with only his shoulders touching the sheets and nowhere to go, nothing to brace himself against, arms flung over his face and fingers clasping desperately around the pillows of the bed.

His face was flushing, his mouth open and panting, sucking air into his lungs in stuttering breaths, eyes screwed shut under the cover of his own limbs and he felt so embarrassed and so insanely turned on all at the same time, the emotions struggling in his chest while pulling at his insides and he was so grateful for the fact that Cas couldn't _hear_ him, couldn't perceive the insane babbling that went on inside his head because it was something he could barely stand himself.

The heat of Castiel's mouth was spreading like wildfire all throughout his body, but he couldn't allow himself to let it show because it _shouldn't_ feel this good and he _shouldn't_ enjoy it the way he did! He was supposed to find it _uncomfortable_ and _nasty_ and absolutely _repulsive_ and he was biting his lip so hard he could sense the coppery taste of blood on his tongue, but he couldn't show it, he couldn't let himself go because he wouldn't be able to take it back, he wouldn't be able to- _oh sweet Jesus_…!

His body was shaking violently, as if freezing cold, and his hands were fisting the pillow beneath his head so hard his knuckles were crackling and he wasn't sure how much longer he'd be able to take this and then the air rushing down his lungs stuttered to an abrupt halt as his eyes flared open, a choked groan wheezing out of his throat because Cas did _not_ just shove his _tongue_-!

"Cas!" he whimpered, "Cas wait, I-..! Please, I can't-….! _Fuck_…!"

He tried to wriggle away again, but the hands wrapped around his waist and his thigh simply tightened their grip like a vice, refusing to let him go and when Dean felt the pressure of the angel's tongue press against and _breach_ him once more he buried his face in his hands and choked out a broken moan, gritting his teeth so hard he feared they might shatter.

He could feel Castiel's grace beckon for him, asking him to open up the bond once more, but he couldn't concentrate, couldn't even open his mouth enough to speak a single coherent sentence, even less manage to establish a psychic connection inside his head and he was only just capable of tossing his head from side to side, wounded sounds of pleasure escaping through gritted teeth because fuck, fuck, _fuck_!

He knew that the angel was watching him, he could feel the weight of that gaze upon his body as clearly as the hot wetness thrusting into him, but he couldn't look, he just _couldn't_ because knowing what the angel was doing to him was enough; _seeing_ it would ruin him for life! His own erection was lying heavy against his abdomen, pearling clear liquid at the tip and just the fact that he still had one, that this treatment made the blood in his body rush south like this caused his cheeks to burn hot like the sun because what if people _knew_ that Dean Winchester liked getting licked out by his angel boyfriend like some kind of… like a-… damnit, he couldn't even come up with a proper insult for himself anymore!

It only got worse when the hand that had been stroking soothing up and down the length of his thigh moved down and joined the tongue's work, slipping into him with an ease that shouldn't have been possible and Dean felt his body clench down around the digit as it began moving, thrusting slowly and then his entire body went rigid against the sheets when the finger _curled_ inside him. His mouth fell open in a sharp gasp, hips jerking up and before he knew it he was pushing _back_, electric pleasure coursing through every nerve in his body and _he had no idea that it would feel like this_, if only he had _known_, holy shit, he had no _idea_-!

Castiel's mouth moved up to kiss along his knee and the inside of his thighs, the stubble scratching and making Dean's nerves twitch and the angel was murmuring something under his breath that Dean couldn't understand, the silent gravel of that rough voice sending chills up his spine in a way that could only mean that the words spilling from the angel's mouth were of no earthly language.

When Castiel added a second finger however, Dean's eyes flew open with a strangled whimper, staring up at the ceiling above him in horrified shock because that actually _hurt_, the pain startling him out of his current state of incoherency and Castiel stopped, sending him a concerned look when he felt the human's body tense.

He didn't say anything, but Dean knew that he was watching him, and he knew that he was being offered a chance to make it all stop, again. If he asked it, Castiel would stop what he was doing and let Dean fuck him instead, just like last time. He wouldn't even mind bottoming for him, no, the angel would lie down eagerly and spread himself out for Dean to use as he wanted because Castiel would never deny him anything, because Castiel _loved_ him and he would do anything to make sure Dean was happy, whether Dean believed it or not and Jesus, Cas...

"Dean…?"

The low timbre of Castiel's voice startled him back to reality and he forced his gaze to move along the length of his own body until they met with the angel's blue eyes regarding him from above.

He still had a choice, he could still say no…

And then he nodded, sucking in a shuddering breath when Castiel's fingers started moving again. His eyes fluttered, but he fought to keep them open because Cas wanted this, Cas wanted him to _see_, and he would _watch_ because Cas _wanted_ him to watch and god help him, it actually made it all so much better and worse all at the same time.

The pain was still there, dry and sharp and _real_, but Dean found that if he forced his muscles to relax it went away faster, soon reduced to the same maddening pressure from before that left him panting for breath. He couldn't see the spot where Castiel's fingers disappeared inside him, but he could see the movement of the other's arm, could follow the slow twist of his wrist and he groaned, his stomach flipping wildly when Cas moaned in response, those blue eyes dipping down to watch his own fingers work Dean open, seemingly mesmerized at what he saw as Dean felt a third finger enter him, scissoring him with a slow, heavenly burn as the pain returned, dull and throbbing.

"Cas…"

Castiel looked up at him, but he didn't stop this time, only slowing down and Dean had to bite back a groan of frustration that startled even himself when he realized that he didn't want the angel to do that either. He opened his mouth to send the angel some snappy comment, something that would give him back the pressure of Castiel's hand and allow him to keep his dignity at the same time, but the words died on his tongue when he met the look of absolute endearment from Castiel's eyes, goose bumps prickling the skin all over his body because Castiel was looking at him like... as if he was…

For the longest time Dean couldn't look away, couldn't think, couldn't move, and then a strangled breath left his lungs in a shudder that made his gut clench and he swallowed, eyes fighting to stay open while the angel's fingers moved to rub gently against the insides of him.

"Cas…" he whispered, his voice tearing, strung out and baffled. "What the hell have you done to me, man…?"

Castiel stopped moving then, his brow furrowing and a whimper slipped out between Dean's lips because no, no, don't stop, that's not what he meant, god damnit, don't _stop_! He pulled at the angel with his legs, urging him to resume what he had been doing, but instead Castiel released him, allowing Dean's body to slump back down onto the mattress with a mute thud as he pulled his fingers out and then he crawled over him, slowly, kissing his way up his hips, his stomach, his chest and his clavicle and neck until he was nuzzling the tiny hairs at Dean's temples.

"Dean," he murmured, the name rolling off his tongue like liquid velvet, warm and safe. "If you want me to stop…?"

"No…!" Dean winced, "No, I don't, I-… " he shivered, closing his eyes tight. "Just touch me… damnit, just… Don't make me beg for it, Cas, please don't…"

A pair of lips pressed against the nape of his neck, lovingly and gentle and then Castiel's hand moved, slowly slipping down the front of him until it curled around Dean's erection in two, lazy strokes and Dean's heart froze silent inside his chest when the angel's weight left him, the empty space above him filling with the clink of a belt coming undone and the low rustle of fabric.

"Just breathe, beloved…" the angel whispered, and Dean felt his knees getting nudged apart, the hard length of Castiel's erection brushing against the inside of his thighs. "Just breathe…"

Dean nodded, not really knowing what exactly he was agreeing too anymore and when the blunt tip of Castiel's cock pressed against his entrance his hands scrambled across the beddings to fist in whatever they could find, bracing for the horrible pain of being split down the middle that he was sure to come because shit, they didn't even have any _lube_ for fuck sakes! His pulse was racing inside his head, the thunderous beats of his heart drowning out everything as the room submerged into a unnatural silence where every breath from their mouths and creek of the mattress below seemed sharp and loud enough to punch a hole right through his eardrums and he was _scared_, was fucking _shaking_ with it; the sharp, metallic fear of this new, unknown thing filling up his entire world.

"Cas… are you sure we shouldn't… slicken it up a bit?" he winced, feeling his cheeks heat up even further, embarrassment for sounding like such a freaking girl making him blush in spite of himself, but Castiel just shushed him and something on the other end of the bond stirred when the angel reached down between their bodies.

"Just relax..." he murmured, "I told you I'd take care of you…"

Dean gulped, a violent shiver running down his spine, but when Castiel leaned in to press against his entrance for the second time he could feel a slick coolness that definitely wasn't saliva spread over his skin and he let out a shuddering breath of air against the angel's shoulder. The fucker actually used his angel magic to produce _lube_! If Dean hadn't been so busy silently panicking he would have laughed his goddamn head off!

The humor of the situation was lost the second Castiel shifted, and Dean quickly forgot all about angel mojo when the ability to breathe seemed to leave him in a single, violent rush. Castiel moved slowly, every inch gained stretching Dean to the point where he was convinced that he would not be capable of taking any more, that his body would lock up in pain beyond his imagination at any second because this shouldn't be possible, there was no way that this was going to work.

But the pain never came.

Instead there was a slow, firm and demanding increase of pressure working itself through him and Dean could literally feel his body fight back the intrusion, feel the muscles pulse and clench on the inside of him in a rhythm beyond his control and then something just seemed to _give_ and before he got a chance to react Castiel was inside him, sliding all the way home in a single, fluent push that made Dean mewl helplessly against the angel's chest, eyes open and staring blindly.

It was like frozen fire, bright and blazing and he remembered 'lightning', the word ringing clear as a bell inside his head when Castiel straightened up and let out a quivering moan to the ceiling and Dean answered it with one of his own when Cas leaned down, pressing his forehead against Dean's clavicle, the large wings above their heads trembling and filling the air with a millions whispering voices.

The muscles in the angel's arms were tense, as if the hands pushing down into the beddings by Dean's sides were holding up the weight of the entire universe, eyes clenched shut and breath coming out in short gasps of pleasure that Dean could recall for himself all too well.

_This is his first time_, he thought, bewildered realization cutting through his brain and above him he could hear Castiel drag in sharp mouthful of air, as if he the same thing had just occurred to him as well and then he _moved_, the length inside Dean's body sliding out and then back in with slow, controlled movements of the angel's hips that got immediately contradicted by the violent quiver rippling through the wings above. Castiel moaned again, a broken sigh that wound itself up the angel's throat and Dean couldn't bare himself to watch it, he couldn't-…

He hid his face in the pillow, breathing deeply as the celestial creature continued to move inside him, their limbs shaking from a tension none of them could control, even less stop and Dean didn't know what to do with himself!

Castiel moved so _slow_, so gentle and _lovingly_ and he couldn't _take it_! He needed Cas to _move_, to fucking pound into him and take his breath away like he did before out there in the living room; he needed it _rough_ and _hard_ and _violent_, every fiber of his being screaming out for the angel to release whatever divine force he was holding back because he needed to _focus_ on something else than this torturous tenderness that was slowly eating him up from the inside out because he didn't deserve it, he didn't deserve _this_…!

"Cas…" he begged, "Move… For god sakes _move_…!"

Castiel moaned, his head tipping down when he heard the broken hiss of Dean's voice, but he didn't change the pace, still working the same, steady rhythm and Dean threw his head back into the pillows, fisting the covers beneath him with an arch of his back that made the hardness inside him slide in that final, godforsaken inch that he didn't even know he needed, the sudden stimulus of his prostate short-circuiting his brain all over again.

"Fuck..!" he gasped, hips rolling down as he arched again, searching, _needing_. "Oh god, again… Again, Cas, Jesus…!"

His body moved before his brain did, meeting with the thrust of the angel's body and he heard Cas choke out a groan that made the hairs on Dean's arms stand up when he ground down and then there was a mighty gush of wind when the angel straightened up, the giant wings on his back spreading as he sat back on his heels and grabbed hold of Dean's legs, pulling them up by his sides and Dean let go of the sheets in favor of burying a breathless cry into the crook of his left arm.

His lips were moving without sound, mouthing incoherent words of complete nonsense against his own skin, a low litany of 'please' and 'move' and 'fuck' that melted together into a single string of desperate noises, but his prayers were left unanswered as Castiel didn't speed up the slightest. He did, however, put more strength behind his thrusts and Dean's head filled with flashes of white with each firm roll of the angel's hips.

The heat in his belly was boiling, fire licking sinfully up his spine in long, icing swipes and he felt the sparks build, could feel the blissful end bubble just beneath the surface, the agonizing slow movements of Castiel's cock against the bundle of nerves inside him making his entire body shake. He could sense the wall of the impending orgasm draw nearer, rolling in and falling down, rolling in and falling down like the waves of a rising tide and he didn't know what to do with himself, didn't know where to go because the only thing existing was the desire of feeling the heat of Castiel's body pressed in against him, moving with him, but just thinking wasn't enough, it wasn't _enough_...!

He reached out, hand flailing blindly and somehow he managed to find and rake his fingers down the back of the angel's hand holding on to his knee and thankfully Cas seemed to get the point and leaned down, bracing himself on the mattress next to Dean's head. Friction, sweet and deliriously good finally pressed in over Dean's weeping cock, the precum smearing across their stomachs as they continued to rock against each other, every inch of them touching, moving and Dean let out a broken sob to the ceiling, hated himself for not being able to hold it back and Castiel's hand flexed into the pillow by his side, two fingers spreading to ghost against the arm still covering Dean's face.

"Dean…" he breathed, "Dean, look at me…"

Dean reluctantly moved his arm away, though he didn't want it, didn't want Castiel to see him like this, but he did it anyway, something in the angel's voice forcing him to. He looked up at Castiel, expecting those eyes to gaze back at him with the same, soul-searching blue as they always did, but instead he let out a whimpered breath when the calm, celestial depths he had imagined were nowhere to be seen. Cas was looking at him, his face a mixture of pure delirium, blissful amazement and terrified concern; emotions that a creature like him should not even be capable of having swirling within his gaze, his mouth open, moving without sound with a rush of air that verged on the line of helplessness.

"Dean…"

His name… Dear god, had anyone ever said his name like that before?

Castiel was looking completely lost, the desperation in his eyes contradicting the control of his movements in a way that should have been impossible and it struck Dean like a fist to face that the angel was reaching out to him, the low shudder of his voice pleading for some sort of response.

"Dean, I don't know if I can…" Castiel groaned, body freezing with a violent tremor that sent every feather of his wings spiking. "It feels so good…" he breathed, his voice cracking into a throaty whine. "It feels so good, _Dean_…"

For a few, heart stuttering seconds time seemed to halt around them; stunned and gaping, and then Dean reached down, Castiel following his hand out of the corner of his half lidded eyes as the human grasped around the angel's hip and slowly pushed it forward, guiding him to resume the slow thrusting from before and Castiel closed his eyes, letting out a breathless gasp as he craned his head to the ceiling.

"C'mon…" Dean murmured, words coming out balancing on the brink of incoherent. "C'mon, just a little faster… Give it to me, Cas, c'mon…"

Castiel's hips snapped forward, an erratic spasm that left them both gasping for air and Dean's eyes spread open wide when the angel did it again, and then again, and again and _again_, the pace slow but the thrusts unyielding, pelvis rolling and cock rubbing against that sweet, sweet spot inside of him that sent Dean into a breathless, quivering fit, hands grappling at damp, dark hair, clawing at the angel's chest and arms in search of refuge. He gasped, bracing his weight against the mattress, pushing up and _in_, feeling Castiel's breath rush over the skin of his chest when the angel hung his head down, eyes screwing shut and lips moving, over and over, whispering and whimpering.

"Dean… _Zirdo ialpon… Oi Norqrasahi_…! Dean, I'm-…! "

Castiel was talking, an endless stream of words that wound themselves through Dean's very existence and another of those embarrassing sounds slipped over the seam of Dean's lips; a pleading, begging noise that he knew that he should loathe, but the sound of it, the vibrating tone at the back of his throat as the syllable of Castiel's name broke free from his mouth seemed to be the final straw, the last drop of water that made the dam crack and crumble with a thunderous roar.

His hands found and held on to Castiel's shoulders just as the barrier broke, the furious tide washing over them both in a rush so strong it seemed wipe all the color out of the world. It was hot and scorching like fire, their orgasm seemingly drawing on forever like a star burning out of the sky and the only thing Dean could see was the way Castiel's mouth fell open, the only noise reaching his ears being the choked out sound of his own name just before the light in the angel's eyes flared up and whited out _everything_, forcing Dean to avert his gaze, but sweet Jesus he could still _see_ it, see it with a clarity that was close to terrifying and it was amazing and so beautiful and absolutely wonderful all at once he couldn't bring himself to _breathe_.

It only lasted for a split second; a moment within a moment between moments and then it was gone and he slumped back into the pillows, gasping and panting with a heart which seemed dead set on coming crashing through his ribcage at any second, choking out the air from his lungs with the weight of Castiel's body splayed out on top of him like a giant, feathery comforter.

He was vaguely aware of the fact that he was shaking, but he didn't really register it before Castiel suddenly shifted his weight, the length still inside Dean rubbing against his prostate and sending his entire body into a hysteric fit.

"Shit!" he gasped, hands shooting down to push at the angel's hips. "Oh god, pull out…!" he pleaded, "You have to pull out, I can't-!"

The sensation went beyond intense – he couldn't even describe it, he just needed Cas out and away from _that_ part of him right the fuck _now_ because he wasn't sure if any further contact down there would make him die or cream himself all over again!

Luckily for his sanity, Castiel obliged, although a bit sloppily as he simply shoved himself up and tilted his hips to the side and Dean let out a disgusted groan when he felt the warm stickiness that seeped down onto the sheets below a few moments after the angel's softening erection slid out off him. He made a quick, completely impartial decision that Cas was _so_ going to use his magic to clean that mess up later, but he had barely finished the thought before he choked down a massive gulp of air as Cas unceremoniously gave him the angelic version of an ice bath, again, and he cursed loudly, rewarding the angel with a hard shove in the side with his elbow.

"Apologies," Castiel murmured against his shoulder and Dean snorted.

"Yeah right, as if you don't know exactly what that feels like," he mocked dryly, "We seriously need to fix the temperature defect on that…" he added, another involuntary shiver coursing through him and Castiel responded by grumbling something incoherent against his neck.

_You have to be a bit clearer, babe,_ Dean drawled, opening up the bond once more._ I don't speak grumble when I'm sober._

The head pressing in against his neck rose slowly, a pair of blue eyes sending him a squinted glare, but when Dean simply grinned back the corner of the angel's mouth slowly twitched up into a smile before moving in to give him a kiss on the mouth, but Dean flinched away, bringing a hand up to shield himself with a disgusted sound.

"Dude, I'm not kissing you with that mouth!"

Castiel scowled, propping himself up on his elbows and rolling on to his side next to the human, the two large wings folding down along his back with an defensive rustle.

"You're being ridiculous," he argued, sounding somewhat offended, "I told you-…"

"… that I was cleaner than God's reading chair, yeah I heard you." Dean interrupted. "And I trust you, it's just the knowledge of… you know?" He made a vague motion with his hand and Castiel rolled his eyes to the ceiling, muttering an exasperated 'humans' under his breath and Dean chuckled, feeling the post-orgasm slumber beginning to sneak up on him.

"So… was it like you imagined it?" he asked, suddenly immensely curious to what the angel had thought about his first, genuine roll in the sack and Castiel frowned, seemingly thinking the question over.

"No," he said eventually after what felt like at least five minutes. "In all honesty, I'd have to say that it was-…"

"Dude, if you say 'it was better', I'm going to revoke all of your TV privileges." Dean threatened.

"Then I wont say it," the angel deadpanned and Dean, though he tried, could not determine whether the angel was playing him or not until Castiel sent him a bright flash of teeth before allowing his head to fall down against the pillow with a content sigh.

"Hey," Dean nudged him in the side with his elbow, suddenly remembering something. "This whole, time-within-time thing… How long will it last?"

"As long as I want it to," the angel shrugged, a crooked little movement consisting of only one shoulder and half a wing. "But I suppose two or three days would be my limit."

"So technically we could stay here as long as we want?" Dean asked smugly. "We could be here for hours and no one would ever know?"

"Technically, yes."

"Sweet…"

Dean folded his arms behind his head, settling his body down against the mattress. His muscles were aching, his skin still prickling with goose bumps from his orgasm and his ass felt strangely… empty? Okay, that was definitely weird, but he quickly decided that it could have been a lot worse than that. He would get used to it in time, surely.

A split second after he finished the thought he realized what it was that he was actually considering and the realization almost had him hyperventilating for a moment. Jesus, he was still coming down from round one and he was already thinking about doing this again?!

He glanced at Castiel who was still nuzzling into the crook of his own arms were he was, lying flat on his stomach with his arms folded over the pillow and the large set of wings curled up in a half stretch over the bed and he swallowed, willing his pulse down to normal.

He was still alive, right? And so far he didn't have any sudden urges to run out and by a dress or join a knitting class, so it couldn't be all that bad. He was still a man, evidently.

_All that fuzz_… a little voice inside his head murmured, and again that calm blanket from before seemed to lower itself over him, acceptance curling around his soul and lulling his anxiety to sleep.

All that fuzz…

So Dean Winchester liked taking it up the ass for his male, angel boyfriend?

Funny how things worked out sometimes.

He sighed again, the slow breath dragging all the poisonous thoughts out with it when he exhaled, leaving him feeling oddly cleansed and relaxed, the tension he had been carrying for the past weeks suddenly completely gone. It was strange and new, this calm state of mind, but hey, it wouldn't be the first major change in his life.

His new, married, _halosexual_ life filled with mind-blowing orgasms and one ridiculously blue eyed angel.

Fuck yeah, he could learn to roll with this.

Next to him Castiel yawned and Dean chuckled when the feathers on the angel's back fluffed up on reflex before smoothing back down again, the large wings giving a subtle shake to make the quills align themselves correctly.

"They really are amazing, you know," Dean murmured, reaching out a hand to trail a single finger down the edge of the wing closest to him and again Castiel shuddered, a fit of shivers that wrecked his entire frame, but he didn't pull away and Dean could feel the flattered rush of emotions that coursed through the angel's grace in response to the compliment.

"I really like these," Dean said, leaning forward to lift one of the appendages up and reveal the dotted lines of white on the inside of the wings. "One of these days I'll have to tie you down and study them properly. I bet your new wings came with a bunch of new sweet spots too... It might even take hours to find them all, don't you think?" he added lewdly, the response being a violent tremor and a sharp look of blue from the corner of the angel's eye and Dean grinned, allowing the wing to drop back down again.

"Man, riling you up is the easiest thing since Shake-and-Bake," he chuckled.

"I don't know what a shake and bake is, but it sounds awfully inefficient," the angel mumbled, "not to mention messy," he added as a second thought.

"You like it messy," Dean objected and for a moment Castiel looked at him as if he was going to object, but then he simply shrugged again and fell back down onto the pillow.

Dean watched him for a while, studied the way that muscular torso rose with each intake of breath, noted the subtle shift of color that appeared by the shoulder blades; human pink morphing into subtle grey where the first feathery downs spread over the base of the giant wings on the angel's back.

He had a fucking angel. _Alive_ and _real_ and _solid_ - feathers and all. How was this even his life?

"You know…" he mumbled, "Sam asked me yesterday why I, you know… married you."

Castiel opened a single eye, looking at him over the ridge of his arm.

"He thought we did that just to make his spell work," Dean continued with a chuckle. "I told him to stop being so full of himself." He cleared his throat, sneaking a glance at the angel from the corner of his eye.

"Besides… you already know, right? About why I did it, I mean…?"

Castiel rose slowly, propping his weight up onto his right elbow and somehow managing to tilt his head sideways even when lying on his side and Dean licked his lips, shifting his eyes to focus at the covers bunched up by his feet.

"I know I said that time on the porch that you would only hear me say it once…" he mumbled, "But if you… I mean if you need to, I don't know, hear it more often…?"

"Dean."

Dean reluctantly pulled his attention away from his own toes, meeting the angel's gaze and feeling his throat lock up around itself when the tip of a large wing came down to smooth tenderly against his shoulder.

"There are no need for words, beloved," Castiel spoke softly, "I know."

Dean swallowed, looking away again while breathing out a strained chuckle.

"Man, some chick flick moment this turned into, huh?" he mumbled towards the covers and next to him Castiel sighed and Dean swore he could _hear_ the exasperated way those blue eyes rolled towards the ceiling when the angel spoke next.

"I still don't understand what adolescent poultry have to do with being honest," he complained tiredly, as if he suspected that Dean was now using the word solely for the purpose of annoying him and Dean couldn't help but to smile, shaking his head.

"You know what? I think you do know; you just want to embarrass me by making me admit what a complete girl I'm turning into."

He stretched, groaning at the ache in his back and flexed his legs against the sheets.

"Fuck, there's no way Sammy's not going to notice something's up when we get back. I won't even be able to _pretend_ to walk properly after this."

"You will do just fine," Castiel promised. "Taking the abnormal angle to which your knees normally bend into consideration no one will ever know."

Dean turned his head, giving the angel an openmouthed stare.

"Dude, did you just make fun of my _legs_?" he asked, amused disbelief loud and audible within the words, but Castiel simply shrugged again, eyes travelling down the length of the two limbs by his side.

"You have to admit, Dean, they are not the straightest samples around," he noted, eyebrows pointedly raised.

"You know what, shut your mouth, feather-face." Dean snorted and Castiel's eyes immediately narrowed, sharp blue scrutinizing him intently.

"I would guard my words wisely if I were you," the angel warned, "I still have wings and your feet are still remarkably exposed."

"You wouldn't dare," Dean snorted, trying to sound sure of himself while resisting the initial, panicked urge to pull his feet up and out of the way from the angel's suddenly extremely threatening wingspan.

"I'm an Angel of the Lord," Castiel countered confidently, "There are few things I do not dare."

"Dude, I don't care if you're a fucking _Charlie's_ Angel; you come near my feet with those things and I'll fucking kill you."

"_How_ exactly?" the angel challenged and Dean straightened up with a huff.

"I'll sigil your feathery ass right out of bed that's what I'll do, wise guy," he shot back, "and when you come back I'm g- what are you doing? No, no don't you- don't you come any closer with those…! Cas? Cas, you wouldn't dare! Don't you dare, you little- Cas! _Cas_!"

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Sam doesn't notice when they slip back, once more fully clothed, into the right timeline, although he gives Dean a strange look when Dean stumbles into the bookshelf seemingly without reason when the time cringes and shifts back into gear around them. After a few more moments of angel anatomy studying Castiel then tucked his wings back to wherever they came from and Sam spent the rest of the evening with a permanent smile on his face that not even Dean's inappropriate jokes could wipe away.

Later that night when the last rays of the sun had since long disappeared behind the horizon and the only witness to Castiel's well received cooking was the crumbs left on the plates in the sink, they were all sitting in the living room again. Sam was reading, Bobby was fiddling with something by his desk and Dean was watching the TV with his head propped against the armrest of the couch and his legs stretched out over the seat next to him when Castiel joined them from the kitchen. Wordlessly, Dean made room for the angel on the couch, shifting his weight so that he could put an arm around the shorter male's back and pull him in to lie down with his head resting against the side of Dean's chest and Castiel followed obediently, without protest.

Sam watched them intently from the corner of his eye and when Dean's thumb started smoothing down the white fabric of the angel's shirt in tender little swipes he raised a brow towards his older brother, amusement making his lips twitch.

"What?" Dean grumbled and Sam cleared his throat, still trying to look serious while failing miserably.

"Nothing, just… I never picked you to be the cuddly type?" he chuckled and Dean tossed the hand he had been leaning his head against on the armrest out in a 'so?' gesture.

"What, a man can't get comfortable with his husband all of a sudden?" he asked defensively and Sam threw his hands up in mock surrender while Bobby let out a low chuckle from behind his desk. Dean promptly ignored them both and simply pulled Castiel closer as he raises the volume of the TV, the angel pliantly following with the movement with a low hum of contentment.

_Stop being so smug_, Dean chided softly and in return he felt a light, incorporeal squeeze on his upper thigh. _And behave yourself; we're amongst people._

_That's hardly a fair request,_ the angel sent back, snuggling closer. _You're the one who taught me how to misbehave amongst people in the first place._

_One of my best accomplishments I'd say,_ Dean smirked and in return Castiel's grace gave him a teasing flutter against the back of his heel, tickling him and Dean jerked the leg away with a sharp hiss, making Sam roll his eyes at the ceiling.

"You two are just adorable," he leered.

"Shut up, Sammy," Dean snapped.

"Don't tell me to shut up, jerk."

"Then go read that stupid book of yours somewhere else, bitch." Dean shot back, getting annoyed even though he knew his brother was just teasing him, but seriously, was it really necessary to comment on _every single_ thing he and Cas did? Sure, Dean would probably be doing the same thing had the roles been reversed, but at the moment he just wanted Sammy to _shut up_ for a minute.

_You can do that you know_, Castiel offered, a celestial finger slowly tracing its way up the inseam of Dean's thigh.

_Do what?_ Dean asked, looking down onto his leg on pure reflex, even though he knew that there was nothing there to see.

_Make him shut up._

Dean glanced over at his brother who had now gone back to reading his previously mentioned stupid book and then he shifted his eyes to Castiel.

_How?_

Castiel looked up and Dean looked back, still confused, but then his mouth curled into a cruel grin as Castiel's thoughts unfurled within his mind.

Two seconds later Sam's book was sent soaring through the living room in a snappy pull and the younger Winchester was left sitting in his chair with a look of stunned surprise on his face before he slowly turned towards Dean, glaring at his brother accusingly.

"What?" Dean asked innocently, pretending as if he had no idea why Sam was suddenly looking so grim and on the other side of the room Bobby was suddenly immensely fascinated by something inside his desk drawer.

"Very funny." Sam sneered, but when Dean didn't make a move to confess his involvement he sighed and got up from his chair, trampling across the room to retrieve his book.

Dean sent Castiel a sideward glance and when Sam bent down to pick up his reading the book slid away and out into the hallway, disappearing out of sight as if it had suddenly sprouted legs of its own.

"Dean, tell your angel to stop messing around with my stuff!" Sam groaned and Dean threw his hands out.

"Hey, I'm just married to the dude, I don't own him."

Sam rolled his eyes to the ceiling and trudged out into the hallway, muttering not-so-nice-things about his brother under his breath.

_Again?_ Castiel asked innocently and after sending Bobby a quick glance across the room, Dean nodded.

_Again,_ he agreed and with a flick of the angel's index finger there was the unmistakable sound of pages fluttering and a loud thud that revealed that Sam's book was now lying at the top of the stairs.

"_Cas!_"

The two men on the couch barely had the time to share a quick, guilty look before Sam's face reappeared in the doorway, a stern finger pointing at both of them.

"That's the last one!" he ordered sternly. "No more, you got it?"

Next to him, Dean was absolutely sure that Castiel was doing his very best to look appropriately contrite, but the bond made it all too hard to believe since the angel was apparently having more fun with this than Dean himself was. Oh dear lord, he had corrupted an angel. If he hadn't been so sure that being married to a Warrior of Heaven would automatically grant you a spot in Paradise he would actually be a bit worried.

With a final, scolding look Sam disappeared out of sight again and they all heard the heavy stomping of feet as the giant made his way up the stairs, the noise followed by a moment of suspicious silence before the steps turned around and Sam came back down into the living room, his book held firmly in the vice of his hands while he returned to his seat.

Dean could sense that Castiel was planning something else, the angel's grace fluttering around the edges of his mind in concentration and Dean held his breath, watching his brother intently as he felt Castiel's grace gather and _pull_, causing Sam who had been about to sit down on his chair to end up flat on his ass when the furniture unceremoniously moved from beneath him and sent him plummeting to the floor with an indignant yelp.

Dean's bark of laughter was abruptly silenced however when Sam's head turned sharply towards the couch, eyes narrowed and lips pinched tight with accusation.

"Hey, that wasn't me," Dean tried, but Sam wasn't listening as he quickly uncurled himself from the floor, eyes fixed on Dean's face with a grim look of vengeance shadowing at his features. Uh-oh…

"Look, it was Cas' idea, alright?"

Dean had barely finished the sentence when a swift draft and the sound of flapping wings announced that the seat next to him was now gaping empty and Dean stared at the cushion in disbelief because no way did Castiel just _leave_ him here!? Fucking coward angels…!

"Aw, c'mon!" he winced, turning back just in time to see a victorious smirk pull at the corner of Sam's lip and Dean gulped, quickly easing himself off the couch and into a standing position.

"Now Sammy, let's not do anything we might regret later," he tried to reason, slowly backing towards the door to the kitchen, silently trying to calculate if he would be able to make it to the front door in time before Sam caught up with him.

"Oh, I'm not going to regret a thing," Sam assured him. "Can't say the same for you though."

"We were just having a bit of fun!" Dean pleaded, his shoulder hitting the doorframe with a loud thud. "No harm in a little fun, right? Sam?"

"Couldn't have said it better myself," Sam agreed and Dean did _not_ like the way his little brother was smiling at him right now. He looked just like when they were teens and he had threatened to-…

"So… have Cas found out that you're ticklish yet?" Sam asked sweetly and yeah, Dean was officially legging it. Sam had longer legs than he had and he needed all the head start he could get and fair enough, in spite of his aching backside it took almost fifteen minutes of continuous chasing around the property before Sam finally managed to pin Dean to the ground outside the front porch, tackling his older brother with a firm grip around his legs and sending him face planting into the stubbled grass with a panicked cry.

_Cas!? Cas, get your ass down here and_ _help me! _Dean yelled at the bond inside his head, but felt his insides freeze when his demands were only met with cool, amused indifference.

_No! _he gasped, _No, don't you _dare_! Cas, _stop him_! You backstabbing son of a bitch, I'm going to-! Cas_, _please__!_ Please_, I'll do anything, I'll-!_

Whatever other breathless prayer of salvation Dean tried to send towards the sky was quickly rendered incoherent however as Sam's enormous palms mercilessly dug into the side of his ribs, transforming the words into a series of garbled noises that even if Castiel _could_ hear, he surely wouldn't be able to understand. Besides, the angel was more than satisfied simply watching the scene play out from his secure, _invisible_ spot on the porch, looking on as the two giant five-year olds continued to wrestle for power on the moonlit lawn below, wings twitching mirthfully every time Dean's helpless peals of laughter escalated into a girlish shriek.

_Armpits_, he noted to himself as a bowlegged limb suddenly flailed up towards the sky, aiming for Sam's groin but missing it with at least two feet.

_I have to remember that one._

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

_**Okay, I admit it; ticklish!Dean is a thing of mine. **_

_**And can you really blame me? Just think of the pretty eye crinkles and that wide, toothy laughter, I mean c'mon! And Sammy totally used it as leverage when they were younger because he was a lot shorter than Dean back then and the only way for him to win a fight against his big brother was to play dirty okay?**_


End file.
